The Curse of the Black Pearl: Special Extended
by Jack E
Summary: They said her sails were cut from the very shadows of Hell. The ship herself was stained black with the blood of many souls- innocent and guilty alike. But, most intriguing of all: her crew was cursed to sail forever under an air of slaughter and roguery.
1. The Boy In the Water

DISCLAIMER: _The idea, concept, and characters of "Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl" and it's fictional universe belongs solely to Disney Enterprises, Inc., Jerry Bruckheimer, Inc., etcetera. The descriptions of character's feelings, thoughts etc. are my guess and/or assumptions and are intended to come as close to what the creators of "Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl" would want them to be. No profit is made from this site/story and no copyright infringement is intended.

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**Chapter I**  
_"The Boy In the Water"_

> _ Telling stories- telling them well- is a gift, you know. I don't have that gift. At least, I don't think I do. I can't devise new and innovative ideas or unorthodox plots, but I can tell you a story I heard from someone else, once upon a time. It's a story of adventure, of laughter, of courage, of love, but, most of all, it's a story of how bending the rules is sometimes okay. Some say that it really happened. As for me, I'll let you be the judge of that....  
  
_

When Elizabeth Swann found out her father was planning to move to the new world she didn't know what to think. Her life in England and been so pleasurable, why would her father want to leave? But he didn't want to leave- he had to.  
  
That's why, before she knew it, her father, Weatherby, and her were sailing across the sea on the Royal Navy's finest ship, the _HMS Dauntless_. At first it was surprising how quickly time flew and that they were on their way to a brand new place, but after a while, the excitement wore off, and the perky little girl that talked too much wasn't so perky anymore.  
  
To the new world. That's where they were headed. To Port Royal, Jamaica- where Elizabeth's father would become governor. Hopefully, that part of their journey would be more gratifying than this. This was boring.  
  
Elizabeth was twelve. She was a sweet girl who liked to ask a lot of questions- which would probably explain some of the strange passions she had. She was pretty with light brown hair that was fashioned with large curls and partially held back with a large pastel blue bow on the back of her head. She had dark brown eyes that resembled root beer in the way they reflected the light. Her dress was the same color of her bow with little white flowers decorating the material and a lace trimming at the sleeves, collar and hem of her dress.  
  
Elizabeth was a girl that didn't always like to follow the rules. She did it anyway, as it was expected of her, but not always with a positive attitude and sometime a bit of grumbling was present. This was probably why she loved pirates so much: they didn't like rules either. That's right pirates. They were part of the reason she still looked for something exciting to happen on this voyage- it would have been amazing to meet a real one and she secretly wished she could. Be careful what you wish for.  
  
One day, the sturdy _Dauntless_ was slowly cutting through the vast sea before it. It was cutting slower than usual, for there was a little unexcepted twist to this day of the journey- fog. Fog and lots of it. In fact, there so much that it was . . . too much. It draped around the vessel like a thick, cold and wet grey curtain that held what was lying farther than three meters ahead of the ship veiled in mystery.  
  
The fog brought a strange feeling of tension with it. You could smell it, breathe it, taste it and feel it crawling up your spine. It was eerie. The cloud was like a void that swallowed up all the natural sounds of the sea. You could hear a pin drop on the opposite side of the ship. The mere sound of someone's breath made one jump and nervous glances were consistently cast at the fog. How did they know nothing was hiding behind it? What if they hit land without foreknowledge?  
  
Elizabeth crept to the ship's stern. She shivered as a tiny breeze kissed her skin with a rather sharp bite. It was very gloomy. She thought it felt like a graveyard, with the silence and overall feeling of the situation. She didn't like it.  
  
She looked out to the sea. She had once heard a strange story as a girl. It was one of her favorites, as it was a pirate story. Legend told of a black ghostlike ship that from time to time appeared when fog gathered at sea. They said that its sails were an ominous black and that they were cut from the very shadows of Hell. The ship itself was supposed to be stained black as well by the blood of many souls- innocent and guilty alike. But the most intriguing part of the tale was that its crew was said to be cursed to sail forever under an air of slaughter and roguery.   
  
Thinking of the story brought more chills up Elizabeth's spine and a thought to her mind that she had thought many times before: wouldn't be fascinating to meet a real pirate? To her it would have been a pleasure beyond description- to meet a real pirate!   
  
Oh, he would be wonderful! Of course, he would plunder and loot, but for honorable reasons. He'd also be dashingly handsome and the kind of man who could swashbuckle his way out of any awkward situation and then, when caught, he'd go down with honor. That was Elizabeth's vision of a pirate. Principled, brave, honest, and loaded with an adventurous twist.  
  
She smiled. Then the silence started to get the better of her. It closed in around her tighter than before as if it were attempting to suffocate her. It was unbearable. She began to sing a song, softly and slowly, to chase it away:  
  
"_We kidnap and ravage and don't give a hoot, Drink up, me hearties! Yo ho! Yo ho, yo ho; a pirate's life for me, Yo ho, yo ho; a pirate life for me! We extort, we pilfer, we filch and sack. Drink up_ – "  
  
She jumped and span around when a hand grabbed her by the shoulder without warning. "Quite, missy!" snarled the seaman. "Cursed pirates sail these waters! You don't want to bring them down on us now, do ya?"  
  
Elizabeth stared back wide-eyed. She couldn't think of what to say. She was only singing- why was that such a crime?  
  
The man sneered back at her. He had old weather-beaten skin, a friendly, smiling face (except when angry or distressed as he was now), brown greasy hair that was combed back and bushy sideburns about an inch and a half in width. He was a little stocky, not very tall and, as you could probably have guessed, highly superstitious.  
  
"Mr. Gibbs, that will do!" A handsome young man in a blue officer's suit snapped back. He wore a blue naval officer's jacket, white breeches and a three cornered hat. He had a crystyl-like brown eyes and dark brown hair that was fashioned in a ponytail with curls on the side of his head, as was the style back then. He was tall and had a lot of authority in the way he carried himself.  
  
"But she was singing about pirates!" Mr. Gibbs protested. "Bad luck to sing about pirates with us mired in this unnatural fog, mark my words." He began to hobble back to his work station.  
  
"Consider them marked," the officer sighed as Gibbs passed him by. He had heard enough of his long list of bad luck items. "On your way."  
  
"Aye, lieutenant." He began to mutter to himself what he must of thought silently, but the lieutenant heard every word. "It's also bad luck to have a woman on board too - even a miniature one." He took a swig from his personal flask that he hung about his neck and then went on his merry way.  
  
The lieutenant was followed by Elizabeth's father. He was wearing a long curly wig that was the same color of the lieutenant's hair and he was clad in fine clothing of the upper class.  
  
"Actually, I think it'd be rather exciting to meet a pirate," Elizabeth chirped as Mr. Gibbs hampered away.  
  
The lieutenant smiled his familiar grin, obviously amused with Elizabeth's remark. He was very kind to Elizabeth and she appreciated it. But although Elizabeth did like the man, he was very stiff- wouldn't set one toe out of line and that wasn't much to Elizabeth's liking. "Think again, Miss Swann. Vile and dissolute creatures, the lot of them. I intend to see to that any man who sails under a pirate flag or wears a pirate brand gets what he deserves –" he walked up to the rail, next to Elizabeth, and looked at her with a smile that showed he enjoyed the idea of the subject, "a short drop and a sudden stop."  
  
Elizabeth, unsure of the lieutenant's meaning, looked back at Mr. Gibbs, who kindly demonstrated a hanging by taking his necktie and pulling up on it with his head rolled back and his tongue lolling out. She gasped and quickly looked away from Mr. Gibbs. How could the lieutenant want to hang all pirates?  
  
"Lieutenant Norrington, I appreciate your fervor. But I'm…I'm concerned about the effect this subject will have upon my daughter," Governor Swann put in.   
  
The lieutenant nodded and stepped aside, "My apologies, Governor Swann."  
  
The governor smiled and turned toward Elizabeth. They were all each other had. Elizabeth's mother had passed away when Elizabeth was very young and she had no other children. So, Elizabeth was raised by her father, who had no plans of remarriage at all- he was more concerned for Elizabeth's future.  
  
Elizabeth didn't smile back as widely as usual. What effect? She liked talking to the lieutenant. "Actually, I find it all quite fascinating."  
  
"Yes, that's what concerns me. Elizabeth, we will be landing in Port Royal soon, and beginning our new lives. Wouldn't it be wonderful if we comport ourselves as befits our class and station?"  
  
"Yes, Father," she sighed half heartedly and resisting the urge to roll her eyes. This was his favorite and most boring lecture and she wished to cut it short. She watched her father leave, chatting with Lieutenant Norrington happily. In her eyes, she wasn't allowed to do anything anymore.  
  
"I still think it would be exciting to meet a real pirate...." She frowned. Some adventure. If sailing to the New World was so brilliant, why was it taking so long to get there and why wasn't anything interesting happening? She decided to lean on the ship's rail- she was beginning to tire of having to constantly stand in good posture, and leaning over the rail usually was a good excuse to slouch just a bit.  
  
Setting her face in the palms of her hands and her elbows on the splintery wood of the rail, she stared into what felt like (and appeared to be) the exact same murky blue water that she'd been staring at for the past few weeks. The ripples and waves repeated themselves in the same trickling pattern over and over and over and over . . . . Nothing different ever happened. Left, right, left, mix, right, left, left, mix, left, right, parasol, lef- parasol?  
  
Elizabeth blinked and looked again to see if she was seeing things. Sure enough, a white and pink parasol had fallen through the fog and was spinning and twirling as it gently bumped against the ship's large hull. Elizabeth grinned as it began to slip away back into the fog. It was quite funny, watching it do its watery dance. What was a parasol doing in the middle of the ocean? She leaned out a bit further, watching the parasol until it quietly slipped past the ship and back into the mist. That was strange. She looked back out ahead of the ship.  
  
Well, whether she liked it or not, that was the highlight of her day. A parasol. It was funny while it lasted but now the rest of the day was bound to be the same as every other day. She gazed out into the fog and jumped inside herself when a larger dark silhouette of something formed in the fog. She squinted to see what it was. Her jaw dropped as the object floated closer towards the _Dauntless_.  
  
"Look! A boy!" she called after her father and the lieutenant, pointing into the sea. "There's a boy in the water!"  
  
They calmly (but quickly) walked to Elizabeth's side and looked to where she was indicating. Norrington felt his stomach seize up uncomfortably and his heart jump violently as he saw what he expected to be a figment of Elizabeth's imagination. There _was_ a boy in the water- floating on what appeared to be the remains of a ship's deck.   
  
"Man overboard!"  
  
"_Boy_ overboard," Elizabeth corrected.  
  
"Fetch a Hook! Haul him aboard."   
  
The crew reacted quickly to his commands. They were all curious as to find out about this mysterious lad in the water. The boy was snagged by the hooked and drawn aboard as Elizabeth moved to try and get a closer look- this was far more exciting than usual. Mr. Gibbs took the boy in his arms and gently laid him on the ship's deck.  
  
The lieutenant pushed his way to the boy and knelt beside him. "He's still breathing!" he declared, a bit shocked, with his ear beside the boy's mouth. A murmur ran through the crew. The news was wonderful, surely, and they were all pleased to hear it, but that didn't explain where the boy came from. He couldn't have just appeared out of thin air.  
  
The lieutenant proceeded to check the boy's other conditions: his pulse, body temperature, et cetera; and Mr. Gibbs climbed a little higher in the rigging to look out for an answer to the puzzle.   
  
Elizabeth looked at the boy from over the lieutenant's shoulder. She was slightly surprised to see that he looked no older than someone her age. He had dark brown hair (of course, being wet, it was hard to tell and could've been another color) and light skin. She couldn't tell what color his eyes were, as they were shut. He was wearing a loose white sailor's shirt that was open at the chest, a brown vest, brown pants and was barefooted. He looked quite pitiful and she frowned from a feeling of sorrow for him. Obviously, he was alone, poor and apparently helpless.  
  
The silence was interrupted when Mr. Gibbs let out a gasp, "Mary, mother of God!"  
  
The crew abandoned the boy and rushed to the rail to see what Gibbs had witnessed. Elizabeth squeezed her way between two sailors and gasped as yet a larger shape emerged from the murk. A sharp orange glow cut through the fog with a keenness sharp as the sun and quickly took form as fire. The flames were eating hungrily at a vessel that was sinking from its middle where a large hole was and the main mast was snapped in two. Amongst the ship, or what used to be a ship, a bunch of debris was scattered: chunks of wood that no doubt used to be part of the hull or the ship's cargo, a few objects that belonged to passengers- like the parasol- were mingled with the rubbish and the torn and tattered colors of Great Britain's Union Jack lay lifeless just below the surface and was slowly sinking.   
  
Yet another murmur arose in the men. How could this have happened?  
  
"What happened here?" the governor asked a bit breathlessly.  
  
"An explosion midship- most likely the powder magazine. Merchant vessels run heavily armed," the lieutenant calmly thought aloud. And it could have been so, except no one took comfort nor believed the suggestion. It had to be something else.  
  
"A lot of good it did them. Everyone's thinking it; … I'm just saying it … pirates!" Gibbs stammered. Elizabeth took a deep breath as most of the men onboard agreed to this. Pirates couldn't really make this much damage, could they? They weren't that brutal . . . unless, of course it was. . . .  
  
"There's no proof of that. It was probably an accident. Lieutenant, these men were British, and therefore under my protection. If there is even the slightest chance one of those poor devils is still alive, we cannot abandon them!"Governor Swann protested.  
  
"Of course not." The lieutenant stood in thought for a few seconds. Then, coming to his decision, he marched aft at a quick speed. "Rouse the Captain immediately! Heave to and take in sail, launch the boats. Hope for the worst, pray for the best. Move the boy aft- we need the deck clear."  
  
The crew rushed to carry out their orders, readying the cannons, preparing a longboat to search for more survivors and arming themselves. The lieutenant turned away from the governor and continued to instruct his men. The boy was wrapped in a thick grey blanket at the waist and moved out of the way by some sailors.   
  
As this was done, Governor Swann took Elizabeth aside after some quick thought.   
  
"Elizabeth I want you to accompany the boy."  
  
Elizabeth was quite surprised to hear this. What could she do? She was only twelve!  
  
"He'll be in your charge. Take care of him." Her father gave a weak smile and lightly touched his daughter's cheek. Elizabeth studied his face for a few seconds. He was serious, he really wanted her to watch him. She took a deep breath and turned toward the boy as her father walked away with swift step.  
  
She peered at the lad. He was soaking wet and lying there motionless. He looked dead. She looked about the deck for a second. Had there been any other survivors? As she looked about, everyone was running around doing their own business. She finalized he was indeed alone and took a seat next to his body. Poor kid. His family was probably all gone. She reached out and began to brush some hair away from his forehead.  
  
"Ah!" The boy sprang to life and clutched her arm in a frenzy of panic.  
  
Elizabeth jumped a mile high when he yelled. She hadn't expect anything like that to happen. She look into his terrorized eyes and, pulling herself together, she quickly realized he had mistaken her for someone else. She needed to calm him down, he was safe now. She decided that an introduction was a good place to start a conversation and soothe him. "It's okay. My name is Elizabeth Swann," she stated calmly.   
  
"Will Turner," he stammered, still recovering from his sudden shock.  
  
She frowned. He was clutching her arm very tightly and it wasn't too comfortable. "I'm watching over you, Will," she attempted to comfort him, but he fell back in a faint before she could receive a response.  
  
Well, that wasn't very progressive. Finally, she gets someone her age to talk to, who probably had seen a pirate and he hasn't enough strength to even carry out a thirty second conversation! Great.... She sighed and looked at Will a bit disappointed. She couldn't help but notice a chain was around his neck and the end was tucked under his shirt, appearing to hide something. Being as inquisitive as she was, Elizabeth couldn't help but check what the chain was holding at its end.  
  
She slipped the chain out from under his shirt, and, to her surprise, she discovered a brilliantly carved gold medallion. Around its border there were many shapes and designs (mostly triangles) and, in the very middle, there was carved in a fashion that Elizabeth had never seen before a skull. She felt a pit form in her stomach. The only place she knew where a skull was used as a symbol was for pirates. That could only mean one thing: "You're a pirate!"  
  
"Has he said anything?" Elizabeth jumped again and hid the medallion behind her back as she turned to face the lieutenant.  
  
"His name is William Turner," she answered slowly. "That's all I found out." She bit her lip, praying that he wouldn't ask what was hiding behind her back.  
  
He looked at her for a what felt like a long while. He just stared at her. Oh, he probably knew she was hiding something. He sighed and then nodded. Then he turned to the sailors that stood behind him, "Move him below."  
  
Elizabeth wandered to the ship's stern as Will was taken below decks. She stood there, clutching the medallion and was soon swept away in thoughts too many to list. After thinking for a long time she came to a decision. If Will really was a pirate then she'd have to keep the knowledge of it completely secret. If Lieutenant Norrington found out Will's life could be in grave danger and she knew that he didn't deserve it, he was only a boy. She would hide the medallion and never show it to anyone nor tell anyone about it or Will's possible identity. She wasn't going to be responsible for a boy's death.  
  
She glanced down at the medallion once again. Where did Will get it anyway? It looked so weird. After checking to make sure no one was watching, she held up so she could see it with a better light. With her peripheral vision she noticed a black blob hiding in the fog behind the medallion. She lowered the medallion and, squinting to see it clearly, she jumped inside and was as shocked as she would have been had she been slapped across the face. A large black galleon with yards of tattered black canvas, tall masts and a Jolly Roger blowing in a gust of wind sat right before her eyes. It couldn't be! The legendary ship she'd heard about! Perhaps she was seeing things? She quickly shut her eyes tightly, counted to three and opened them again.

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**Author's Notes: **'kay. I realize that writing this is a risky business. There are so many people who love PotC and who interpret the characters in many different. _Hopefully_ I've struck a note with some of you. I've got the first five chapters done and so those are all loaded and ready to go, _however,_ should you for some reason become attached to this ... story (OMG!!! I have to find out what happens!!! Heh, heh. Yeah right. Not much different from the film, dearies- go watch it), you'll have to be patient. I am currently working on another story, "_On the Edge of a Knife, Off the Edge of the Map_" and for now, that's where my highest priorities lie. This comes as a second. So updates won't be as fast as you may like, but I'll try to keep them going, 'kay. I promise I won't stop. 

But first off, I have to find out. Whether you guys even like it! Please review and please be gentle. I'm still very new to this fanfic thing. Don't hurt me. _Tear leaks out of eye_ Please.


	2. Call Me Elizabeth

**Chapter II-  
**_"Call Me Elizabeth"_

Elizabeth wasn't too surprised to find that she was lying in bed, safe at her lovely home in Port Royal. But still there was the nagging uneasiness of someone watching her. She couldn't help but glance over her shoulder half expecting to see a tall dark stranger or an ominous figure of Lieutenant Norrington standing on the other side of her four poster bed. But no one was. It was a dream, of course- there was no way she could've been twelve years old again in reality. She glanced at her bight table and then sat up slowly, reaching for her oil lamp. Was it just a dream and always a dream repeating itself endlessly until it felt memory, or did it really happen so long ago it felt vague and unreal as she was reliving it?   
  
She slipped out of bed and crept to her desk, silently. With so many questions gnawing at her mind she just had to check if the medallion was real. That would end all questions. Elizabeth set the lamp on the desk and carefully opened its top drawer. She kept her journal in that desk and some old letters that she had received from good friends over the years. She gently lifted out the few contents of the drawer and set them beside her lamp on the desk. Then, feeling for its end, she stuck her hand in the drawer and pushed down on its ground. The drawer's bottom flipped up in the front, revealing a secret compartment for hiding papers. Only, this drawer didn't hide any papers.  
  
A round spot was left on the wood as Elizabeth gingerly lifted the medallion from the drawer. One would have guessed that it had been there for a long time, as from the dust that collected on and around it, it appeared to have not been touched in years.   
  
Elizabeth rubbed the dust off the medallion's face with her thumb. It was real. It all was real. She'd forgotten how the skull looked and found it just as intriguing as it was when she first saw it, a real pirate's medallion. The skull stared at her in an expressionless manner and the gold glinted brightly regardless of the fact that her room was dark. Looking into the mirror that hung above the desk, she clasped the chain around her neck. It was cold. She felt like she should wear it today, just for fun.  
  
The reflection that stared back at Elizabeth was very different from who she had just seen in her dream. See, Elizabeth's dream was a replay of a real event that took place in her life, only that was eight years ago. Now, Elizabeth had changed quite a bit from what she was back then.   
  
She still had her shimmering brown eyes and soft locks of caramel hair but there were things about her that she had either lost or gained. Her hair had grown out longer and now reached halfway down her back and curled about her shoulders lightly. She was taller and a woman now. Her face was like a painting, seemingly (or darn close too) flawless. She had natural shadows on her eyelids, her cheeks had gained a light reddish tint and her lips were far more rosy than before. Elizabeth Swann wasn't twelve anymore. She was twenty and life was taxing.  
  
While she went about doing womanly things like attending tea parties and dressing up for special occasions, her father was busy doing one of two things: being the governor and doing everything involved with that or trying to find his daughter a suitable husband. As if having to put up with the downside of corsets and dresses wasn't enough. Elizabeth wasn't too thrilled about her father's ... concern. She felt unprepared to take on the extra role of wife. And besides, she wasn't fond of the options he laid down for her. Or, to speak more proper, she wasn't fond of the option he laid down for her.  
  
A sharp rap broke through the silence.   
  
"Elizabeth!"  
  
She jumped slightly with surprise. Her father! She hadn't realized she had slept in again! She turned towards her bed and ran almost too hastily. A sharp tinge shot through her right leg as she dove for her dressing gown and her knee met her chair with a force that knocked it over. She ignored the pain and snatched her robe, sticking her left arm through one sleeve.  
  
"Are you alright?" the governor called, obviously hearing the collision. "Are you decent?"  
  
"Yes,' she muttered as she got her right arm through its sleeve. Sometimes she felt as if he was a bit too nosy. She looked down and realized her medallion, which still was hanging about her neck, was completely visible and shoved it under the bodice of her dress. Another rap at the door. She called louder for her father to hear, "Yes!"  
  
Her father chuckled as he entered her bedroom, followed by two maids who swiftly went and remade Elizabeth's bed. He was older now- wearing a wig almost identical to the old except it was now a dark grey. The wrinkles on his face showed he was a good-hearted man that loved a good laugh and life, but he also was the type to stay up fretting about little things at night. "Still abed at this hour?"  
  
Elizabeth smiled, finding it quite funny herself. While she was supposed to be up and getting dressed she was dreaming about pirates and gold. Actually, it was more or less about her first meeting with Will Turner, but an actual pirate medallion which now hung hidden under her dress was very must mingled with that meeting.  
  
She quickly shut her eyes as one of the maids drew back the curtains and let in the piercingly bright but glorious light of Port Royal. The town was small. It would've been hard not to go around the whole thing several times by accident in one day. It was neat and well kept thanks to her father and the Navy, which had done a brilliant job of protecting its citizens from pirate attacks with the help of Fort Charles. Fort Charles sat at the top of a high cliff just off the side of the town. It was the base of the town's military, the jail and its courtyard was the location of many town-wide events, the most popular of these being the hangings that took place every month or so. The town was also lush and very green. It was so green that the townspeople had to compromise with the environment if they wanted the have their town at all. The buildings and streets were woven and mingled with the trees and streams, in such a fashion that emphasized the natural aspects of the island. Elizabeth loved the setting. She had taken many walks through the natural gardens of the island and found a lot of pleasure in doing so.   
  
"It's a beautiful day," her father commented happily, then turned quite unexpectedly to a new subject. "I have a gift for you!"  
  
Elizabeth jumped a bit at this news. She hadn't noticed one of the maids carrying a large white box as they entered her room. A gift? What for?   
  
A maid walked over and lifted the box's lid. Elizabeth's jaw dropped at the sight. It was a dress. A beautiful and no doubt very expensive dress. The fabric was something similar to velvet and had white-colored flowers embroidered onto it. The over all color of it was a gold quality, except for the flowers. It was trimmed with white lace at the collar, sleeves and hem of the dress and the craftsmanship of the gown was outstanding. She took it into her arms carefully and examined it more closely.   
  
"Oh, it's beautiful!" she soughed as she stepped to take it behind her dressing screen and try it on. She stopped after her first step, however. The thought that had been shoved out of her mind a few seconds before had happen worm its way back in. What was this gift for? She turned back to her father, "May I inquire as to the occasion?"  
  
Her father chuckled a little bit with surprised and gave a light shrug, "Well- does a father need an occasion to dote upon his daughter?" He turned to the maids and beckoned they help Elizabeth try it with a small, "Go on."

Elizabeth smiled childishly with glee and rushed to take the dress behind the dressing screen. For a moment she had thought that her father had bought this with some kind of unwanted add-on placed upon it, but all appeared safe.   
  
Her father, locking his hands behind his back, looked out the window at his little town. He gave a small sigh and looked down at his shoes and shuffled his feet nervously. Perhaps he should tell his daughter the truth. "Actually, I, uh…I had hoped you might wear it for the ceremony today."  
  
"Ceremony?"  
  
"Captain Norrington's promotion ceremony."  
  
She peeked out from behind the screen with a look of someone who had almost been tricked but had a hunch about the plot beforehand. "I knew it!"  
  
"_Commodore_ Norrington … as he's about to become."  
  
Elizabeth rolled her eyes and returned back behind the screen. She should have known there was a catch, there always was. After sifting through the many suitors that had requested Elizabeth's hand in marriage, her father had found what he apparently thought to be a diamond in the rough and had been obsessing over it ever since. It was driving Elizabeth crazy.   
  
Captain or "Commodore" Norrington was the lieutenant that had accompanied her on the trip to Port Royal eight years ago and in her dream. The problem she had wasn't that he was too old, because he wasn't. Back then, it wasn't uncommon for girls in their teens to marry thirty-year-old men. The thing that bothered Elizabeth was why couldn't her father just let the man propose rather than waste their time making her more appealing to the eye? She was beginning to tire of it a long time ago.   
  
She gasped as her maid gave her corset strings a harsh yank and her ribs began to clash painfully together. This was her least favorite part of her wardrobe by far.  
  
Her father frowned. Apparently, Elizabeth still had no interest in James. He'd been trying to convince her that he was a very wonderful person and would be a marvelous husband to her. "Fine gentleman, don't you think?" he attempted to sway her. "He fancies you, you know." To this she had nothing to say that was neither courteous nor kind, so she held her tongue. Of course he fancied her, why else would he woo her? Out of boredom? "Elizabeth? How's it coming?"  
  
"It's difficult to say." Literally. Her maid gave another painful tug and Elizabeth felt all the remaining air inside her rush out and refuse to return.   
  
"I'm told it's the latest fashion in London," Governor Swann informed.  
  
"Well, women in London must've learned not to breathe!" she responded a bit moodily. She gasped and touched her chest by instinct as she attempted to inhale. She was going to ache horribly by the end of the day, she already could tell.  
  
Her father rolled his eyes. Every year she was becoming more and more difficult to handle and he knew that she would be very grumpy today thanks to that blasted corset.   
  
The butler entered the room with a bow. "Milord, you have a visitor."

* * *

A tall young man carrying a long blue box stood waiting in the foyer, observing the objects about the him silently and watching the maids and other servants go about their business. He had never been here before. He felt awkward. Everything in here was clean, new and expensive, as he looked at his old worn-out leather shoes that were caked with dirt, he could see the contrast. He tried to balance it out with an attempt at shining the top of his shoe by rubbing it on the calf of his opposite leg, but it was no good.  
  
He had a slender and athletically shaped figure. His body was accompanied by a handsome face with intense and deep brown eyes, but they were only dark in tone, for they sparkled when he was happy (and he often was happy). His hair, which was as rich as chocolate and even darker in color, was tied back with a dark but horribly faded blue strip of a rag. He had high and attractive cheek bones and a light goatee could be seen on his chin accompanied by a small amount of hairs above his upper lip (he hadn't shaved in a few days). He wore a dark brown jacket with even darker breeches, grey stockings and, of course, those worn out brown leather shoes with no-longer-shining buckles.  
  
Now you're probably wondering what's the deal with all the brown? I mean, brown eyes, brown hair, brown clothes, brown shoes ... what's up? Well, this young man wasn't very wealthy. In fact, he was merely a poor blacksmith from the town. So poor, in fact, that he was more than one or two classes below Elizabeth, whom he happened to know. Actually, he was a blacksmith's _apprentice_ and truly had to depend on another to make a living.  
  
Regardless of his rank in society, however, the governor had been very caring and kind to him throughout the years. He left him under the care of the local blacksmith and checked on him once in a while when he was young. It wasn't a very good way to teach him how to live and run his own life, but in the governor's eyes, the young man would always be a child.  
  
That didn't stop him, though, from working hard. Ever since he came to Port Royal he looked to the soldiers and Captain Norrington for help and guidance. They were sort of surrogate father figures to him. They all knew him very well and enjoyed the visits from the fatuous little boy down the street. As he grew up, they connected in new ways and he became like a son to many of them and a brother to others.  
  
He had many talents, most of them involving his hands or mind but, unfortunately, most of them were unrecognized. He never tried to change that or become noticed, though. Being taught by the soldiers throughout his youth, he believed strictly in following the rules and staying in line where he belonged and that was in one place: unnoticed.  
  
Today, he had come to present the Governor with the sword he had made- the sword that was to be presented to Captain Norrington at the ceremony. Well, technically, the sword was supposed to be made by his master, he felt as thought the governor always looked down upon him as a talentless commoner from the street. So he decided to gamble at shaming himself or being able to prove himself, and maybe today was that day. The day that he could prove himself and perhaps steal a conversation with Elizabeth.  
  
He turned and looked at a sconce on the wall. Admiring the craftsmanship, and being curious to look at the fixture thoroughly (being a craftsman himself), he reached up and touched the foremost candle. With a clap that echoed through the mansion the hold broke free of its base and he soon found himself clutching it in his hand. Hearing someone approach, he quickly and quietly set it into the umbrella pail at his feet and straightened himself as a servant passed through the foyer with a nod and a smile. He smiled and nodded back just as the governor descended the stairs.  
  
"Ah, Mr. Turner! It's good to see you again!"  
  
"Good day, sir," Will replied with a smile. Yes, it was Will, as in the same Will that Elizabeth saw in her dream. He was a blacksmith by trade and now twenty years of age. He set the blue box he held on a nearby table which the governor stood by. "I have your order."   
  
He unlatched the box quickly and lifted up the lid. Inside revealed a spectacular sword.   
It had a polished steel blade with a beautiful handle made of gold and of some dark wood, most likely mahogany or ebony. He cleared his throat, lifted the sword with its sheath on from the box carefully and gently placed it in the governor's eager hands, nervously awaiting his criticism.  
  
The governor's eyes were agleam as he drew and examined the sword like a boy looking over a brand new Christmas present.  
  
"The blade is folded steel, that's gold filigree laid into the handle," Will illustrated as the governor admired the sword.  
  
"If I may?" Will held out his hand courteously and, after the governor granted him permission, he took the sword lightly from the governor, and laid it on the pad of his first two fingers, close to sword's the hilt. The sword tilted slightly back and forth and then sat still on Will's outstretched hand motionless. A small grin flashed and disappeared across his face, but his eyes continued to twinkle with delight and pride. "Perfectly balanced. The tang is nearly the full width of the blade."  
  
The governor laughed delighted and slightly surprised as Will flipped the sword gracefully in the air and caught it. He gave a small bow and gave it back to the governor.  
  
"Impressive, very impressive. Ah, now," the governor stammered as he placed the sword back in its sheath and handed it back to Will. "Commodore Norrington is going to be very pleased with this. Do pass my compliments on to your Master."  
  
Will, who was placing the sword back in its case, froze and looked up at the governor with a slightly startled expression on his face. He quickly replaced it with a pained smile as he closed the box. "I shall. A craftsman is always pleased to hear his work is appreciated." The governor was obviously oblivious to the fact that he had put his whole heart and soul into making the sword. But the reply pleased the old man and he chuckled at Will's clever answer.  
  
The governor and Will looked up in unison as the sound of soft footsteps coming down the stairs met their ears. Elizabeth was carefully descending the stairs, wearing the dress her father had given her. Her hair was pulled up beautifully with a lock of hair curling over her left shoulder and a fantastically flower-decorated cream hat tied on with a sash that wrapped around the back of her head. She had a necklace of pearls around her neck, matching earrings and (if no one, then very few people noticed this) the gold medallion, hidden under her dress.  
  
"Ah! Elizabeth! You look absolutely stunning!" her father declared lightheartedly as he beamed at her. And it was no lie. Hopefully, she'd put her pride aside and be little more open to the commodore today. Will's eyebrow's shot up and he didn't realize his jaw dropped slightly. His blood ran cold as ice for a second, then warm again as a fuzzy feeling issued from somewhere inside and his stomach began to fill with what felt like mad butterflies. She was even more enchanting than ever.  
  
She paused as she realized her father's visitor was still present. Then a wide smile spread across her face as her had unconsciously went to the medallion and she continued down the steps at a pace slightly quicker than before. "Will! It's so good to see you!"  
  
She was happy to see him. That was good. Will tried to think a reply but all he could do was soak in her words like a dry sponge and try not to goggle too much. He wasn't doing a very good job with the goggling, but at least she didn't seem to notice.   
  
"I had a dream about you last night," she said with a curious look on her face and a soft touch at the arm as she approached him.  
  
"About me?" Will laughed lightly, a bit surprised.  
  
Her father chuckled a bit uneasily. "Elizabeth, is that entirely proper for you to...."  
  
"About the day we met, do you remember?" she asked Will completely ignoring her father.  
  
Will smiled a little and she beamed at his reply, "How could I forget, Miss Swann?"  
  
"Will, how many times must I ask you to call me Elizabeth?"  
  
"At least once more, as always, Miss Swann," he answered politely with a timid nod. Why did she make him act this way?  
  
Elizabeth frowned at th is remark, disappointed. He'd never call her by her first name. It wasn't too much to ask, was it?  
  
"There. See? At least the boy has a sense of propriety. Now, we really must be going. Farewell!" the governor called as he headed out the door. It was time to go- they were going to be late.  
  
Elizabeth looked back at Will and smiled. Only this time her smile was a bit of a disapproving scorn compared to her radiant beam that she wore seconds before. "Good day, Mr. Turner." She quickly turned away from him and practically stormed out the door. He was being a cheeky little working-class scamp to her is what he was doing.  
  
"Come along!" her father called, a bit impatiently.  
  
Will followed her timidly and doggedly out the door as the butler shut it with a soft snap. "Good day!" he called as she gathered her skirts and was helped into the awaiting carriage. Then, he added quietly to himself, smiling at how the word rolled off his tongue so smoothly, so sweetly, ". . . Elizabeth."   
  
She jumped as she thought her ears picked up her name. The carriage jerked forward just as she looked back at Will and met his eyes. She watched him slowly step down the front stairs as she disappeared into the distance. As far as she could tell, he was watching her too. She pulled in the window and leaned back against her seat as Will disappeared from sight and the bumpy ride down to town commenced.  
  
She didn't know what she was expecting, but she ended up casting her gaze at her hands, folded gently on her lap, with a disappointed air about her. Her father fixed the sleeve of his left arm, a bit shakily as he noticed this. "I do hope you demonstrate a little more decorum in front of Commodore Norrington," he stammered. Great, another lecture. He obviously was disappointed in Elizabeth and how she acted around Will. "After all, it's only through his efforts that Port Royale has become at all civilized."  
  
Yes, she knew. She never acted that way around the commodore anyway.

* * *

**Author's Notes:** Alrighty then. I'm not sure if writing this is worth my time, but I'm still chugging along. The next chapter holds the entrance of our favorite drunken pirate captain- sorry if it isn't as humorous as in the film, I tried to give good discriptions. 

Will, as you may notice, is a very controversial character, as you may know. Probably _the_ most controversial character in _Pirates of the Caribbean_. Some people think he's cool, some hate his guts and think he's dork (which is ironic because Gore Verbinski and Orlando Bloom's goal was to make Will a dork until the final hanging scene, where he completely turns pirate), and a lot think he's just plain hot and don't care about his character... dorks. j/k! Don't hit me! It was just in good fun!... If you don't like my portrayal, I'm so sorry! I'm going to try to make Will as close as to what Orlando, Gore, Ted and Terry created.

Um... yeah. So, be good. Please review and look both ways before you cross the street. Namárië!

Jack E.


	3. Captain Jack Sparrow

**Chapter III-**  
_"Captain Jack Sparrow"_

Will was a very honest and upstanding man who would throw his cape (if he had one) over a puddle for a woman (especially if that woman was a certain Elizabeth). However, not everyone in the world is the same and, therefore, we turn our heads to another key person in this tale who was nothing like Will.  
  
Captain Jack Sparrow was a very different man. He was clever, smart and charming; but appeared to be rather insane to those who didn't know him. See, Jack was a bit ... unique. He was very scruffy and sloppy. He wore a dirty brown coat and light grey breeches. Of course, the breeches were so filthy that you never would have even guessed that that was their true color. He wore a loose cotton shirt that was open at the chest to keep cool, knee-high brown boots (what they've stepped in, I'm sure you don't want to know) and a vest that looked like it once was a deep blue or purple (now it looked like a grey-black).   
  
But wait! There's more! He left the vest unbuttoned but wrapped three belts atop it. Three! One was a long white sash with red pinstripes. He wrapped this around his waist and it was so long that one end of it hung down to just past his knee, the other end was three and half inches longer than that. Why did he have this belt? Well, he tucked his pistol in it for safekeeping. The second belt was a tan leather belt about two inches thick. He wore this on top of the sash tied around his waist. He tied his compass, which looked like a square block with a round lid lined with gold, to this belt. The third belt was the same width as the second, only it was dark brown. This one was strapped over his left shoulder, around his chest and under his left arm. This was what his sword was attached to.  
  
He had a red bandana tied across his forehead, from which three strands of beads- one the length of his forehead, one reaching down to his right earlobe and the final one reaching down almost to his left shoulder- and even a long slender bone hung as decorations and trinkets of fond memories. His dark brown, seemingly black, hair was tangled and messy with a thick braid on the back of his head, a tail on the right and knots and dread locks in countless places.  
  
He carried his pistol, cutlass and compass with him to every place he went, never forgot his favorite brown leather three-cornered hat, had a well-grown goatee and mustache, with two small braids dangling from his beard that had beads at the end and rings on his grimy fingers.  
  
When he smiled, you could count many yellow teeth, two of gold and one of silver, as they were so bad that they needed to be pulled or capped. Just by looking at him you'd suspect trouble, for there was mischief in his appearance- from the way he dressed to the manner in which he spoke. But in his eyes there shone a thirst, for adventure and an endless horizon. For, I believe I forgot to mention that Captain Jack Sparrow was different from most normal men in one distinct way: he was a pirate.  
  
Now, it just so happens that on this luminous and happy day, Jack was sailing for the Port Royal harbor. From atop his mainmast, he could see that the harbor was close. The wind whipped his hair and coat around a bit. It felt good and smelt like the sea- of course Jack was used to the scent now, and didn't notice this minor detail. He took a hold of a rope on his mast   
and jumped down with a splash into his leaky boat, the _Jolly Mon_. Sadly, yes, it was just a vessel no bigger than a longboat and his mainmast was really his only mast. Jack didn't have a ship, which was part of the reason Jack was coming to Port Royal in the first place.  
  
He quickly scanned the small "deck" with his eyes and grabbed the bucket floating amongst the other jetsam. He filled the bucket up with water and with a small heave slopped it back into the Sea where it belonged. He paused, gave a sigh and cast his eyes out to nowhere. This was going to take forever.  
  
He watched the high precipice of the island on his right side slip by as he sailed about it's edge. A natural arch slid into view, with four nooses hanging from it. Jack stood up abruptly and  
tossed his pail down with a wave of his hands. The first three nooses held the old bones of former pirates as a way to scare other pirates off, the third held a sign with the words blazoned into the wood: 

PIRATES, YE BE WARNED!

Reaching up he removed his leather three-cornered hat, placed it on his heart and bowed his head in respect. Those gents had died well.

* * *

Port Royal may have been small, but it was a busy town. Merchant marines and   
tradesmen swapped things for the good of the people (and themselves). From bananas and cocoa to goats and cloth, just about everything was traded from ship to ship. People went about their ways, buying, selling, trading in the town. For fishermen almost every day was field day. Children ran back and forth playing silly games of tag and "throw-a-rock-at-a-soldier-and-then-run-as-fast-as-you-can-before-you-get-caught." They sometimes played games that involved avoiding their parents and young lads would pretend to be the commodore or even the local blacksmith fighting pirates, for they'd come to believe he was the world's best swordsman after watching him practice sword combat almost everyday.  
  
Jack came sailing into the buzzing harbor not too long later. He was standing on his spar again in an impressive stance as he neared the dock. People stopped their activities and pointed at the man with awe. His boat was nearly sunk! Jack didn't care. In fact, the boat's sail had all but disappeared below the water's surface right when he stepped onto the dock and began to casually stroll towards the town with a walk that suggested that he was either drunk or had been out to sea for far too long.  
  
"What? Hold up there, you!" a shout came from behind. Jack spun around on his heel and looked the caller in the eye. It was the harbor master. The old man could have been mistaken for a reverend with his black and white clothing, closely kept ledger and little round spectacles. But, to help differentiate, he had a three-cornered hat and a large green overcoat, so that helped a bit. He snarled at Jack as he looked him over. "It's a shilling to tie up your boat to the docks!"   
  
Jack cast his gaze to his boat- or what he could see of it. The crow's nest and banner were now the only parts of the leaky piece of junk that could be seen above the water's crystalline surface. He turned back to the harbor master.   
  
"And I'll need to know your name," the old man added and snapped open his ledger, holding his plume at the ready.   
  
Jack eyed the man for a moment, completely motionless. Then he jumped to life. "What d'ye say to _three _shillings and we forget the name?" he suggested as he set his bribe on the   
master's ledger.  
  
The harbor master peered at Jack carefully over his spectacles. Then, without another shadow of doubt to be seen in his eyes, he shut his ledger with a snap. "Welcome to Port Royal, Mr. Smith."  
  
Jack grinned and ambled down the dock with his merry, drunkish step. But not without taking the harbor master's purse as he passed by, jingling the bag to make sure it was full.   
  
At Fort Charles, the ceremony was just beginning. People lined up and watched the soldiers and marines line up in two orderly sections- a narrow walkway separating them. They raised their guns and fired a traditional salute into the air as "Rule Britannia" rang in the background on piccolos with a drumbeat accompanying them.  
  
Elizabeth was among the audience and she wasn't feeling well at all. The dress she was wearing was certainly very beautiful, but due to the material it was made of, neither the fluttering of her fan nor the shade of Fort Charles were enough to block the sun's raging heat. She felt like her corset was crushing her rib cage and she could scarcely draw breath. She tried fruitlessly to gulp down some air as James Norrington began to walk down the path created by the soldiers toward the governor.  
  
He marched slowly and Elizabeth found herself cursing him in her head to go faster. She tried to adjust her corset unnoticeably. She wanted to go home and take the blasted thing off. Hours were seeming to go by and five minutes seemed were to go by with each step the captain took. Step ... step... step ... step ....  
  
After what felt like an eternity of baking and suffocating under the sun, Norrington finally   
reached the governor and accepted the sword presented to him. He held it at the ready and   
swung it about in expert play, testing to see what he thought of it. Could he go any slower? Take the sword and be done with it- let everyone go home!

* * *

Jack could hear the chorus of song ringing from the fort. He had managed to creep down   
the docks completely unnoticed as the town was deserted for some kind of event that was taking place on that day. He thanked Lady Luck for assisting him and snuck closer to the dock of his desire.   
  
He peered around once more to confirm that absolutely everyone was gone. So far, so good. See, Jack had come to Port Royal for one teensy weensy teeny tiny itty bitty wee little not-even-worth-talking-about soul purpose: to get a bigger boat. (And one that floated, I'm sure.) He had observed and seriously considered the _HMS Dauntless_. It was very powerful with its fifty guns and lots of extra cargo space for even more fire power. It could easily blow any known pirate ship out of the water. But that wasn't what he needed.  
  
His eyes had afterwards fallen upon the _Interceptor_, and that's where he was headed to now. The _HMS Interceptor_ was exactly what Jack was looking for. It was smaller and sleek so it could travel swiftly through even shallow water without a problem. She was so fast in fact, that she was the fastest ship the Royal Navy had to offer. But she wasn't just fast. Along with her brilliant structure she had several rail guns and even a mortar in her middle, so she could put up   
a fair fight as well. That's what Jack wanted.   
  
He proceeded coolly down the dock, but was brought to an abrupt halt before he could reach the gangplank by two soldiers who ran and blocked his way as he passed them sitting at the spot where they were lounging out of the suns rays. One soldier was a bit stockier than the other, with dark hair pulled neatly back and dressed in his bright red military uniform. The other was smaller, thinner and had redder hair. The first was named Mr. Mullroy and the second was Mr. Murtogg. I'm sure they had real first names, but as I never learned them, we'll have to refer to them in that manner.   
  
"This dock is off limits to civilians," Mr. Murtogg informed in a sort of commanding tone.

"I'm terribly sorry, I didn't know. If I see one, I shall inform you immediately," Jack replied   
quickly and attempted to walk past them. They continued to block him. He decided to have   
another go at it.  
  
"Apparently there's some sort of a high toned and fancy to do up at the fort, eh? How   
could it be that two upstanding gentlemen such as yourselves did not merit an invitation?"  
  
"Someone has to make sure this dock stays off limits to civilians," Mr. Mullroy answered.  
  
"This must be a very important boat."  
  
"Ship," Mullroy corrected.  
  
"Ship. Right. Boats fit on ships, innit that it?"  
  
"Captain Norrington's made it his flagship. He'll use it to hunt down the last dregs of piracy on the Spanish Lake," Mr. Murtogg informed.  
  
"_Commodore_," Mullroy corrected.  
  
"Right. _Commodore_ Norrington."  
  
"It's a fine goal to be sure but it seems to me that a… ," he shuffled to the side and pointed to the_ Dauntless_ as the guards shuffled in the same direction to block him from slipping past, "a ship like _that_ makes _this _one here a bit superfluous, really." He gestured toward the_ Interceptor_.  
  
Mr. Murtogg chuckled at this. "Ah, the _Dauntless_ is the power in these waters, true enough, but there's no ship that can match the_ Interceptor_ for speed."  
  
Jack put the index finger of his right hand to his chin and looked heavenward, pretending   
to think hard for a second. He then jumped back to reality as if he had struck an idea. "I've heard of one. Supposed to very fast, nigh uncatchable. The _Black Pearl_?" he asked, acting as if to see whether they'd heard the name before.  
  
"Heh! Well, there's no _real _ship that can match the _Interceptor_!" the second guard guffawed, as the first one nodded his head in silent agreement with Jack.   
  
Mr. Murtogg froze with a questioning look at this remark. "The _Black Pearl_ is a real ship," he argued.   
  
Mullroy hiccuped another chuckle. "No, no it's not."  
  
"Yes it is, I've seen it."  
  
Mr. Mullroy turned to his friend now, determined to correct his superstitious blunder.   
Meanwhile, Jack watched the conversation unfold quietly. "You've seen it?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You haven't seen it."  
  
"Yes I have."  
  
"You've seen a ship with black sails, that's crewed by the damned and captained by a man   
so evil that Hell itself spat him back out?"  
  
"No."  
  
"Ha! No-" Mr. Mullroy felt as though he had quite proven himself and turned back to   
Jack.  
  
"But I've seen a ship with black sails."  
  
This time Mr. Mullroy turned back to his friend completely frustrated and even spitting   
with his p's as he responded. "Oh! And no ship that's not crewed by the damned and captained   
by a man so evil that Hell itself spat him back out could possibly have black sails therefore   
couldn't possibly be any other ship than the _Black Pearl_. Is that what you're saying?"  
  
Mr. Murtogg nodded. "No," he chimed cheerfully with a smile.  
  
Mr. Mullroy turned back to Jack, "Like I said … there's no real ship as can match the   
_Interceptor_." He froze when he realized Jack wasn't there. He looked frantically around.   
  
"Hey! You! Get away from there!" Mr. Murtogg shouted as he spotted the pirate.  
  
Jack, who was now standing at the _Interceptor_'s wheel, put an exaggerated look of surprise on his face as they both charged and aimed their guns at him.  
  
"You don't have permission to be aboard there, mate!" Mr. Mullroy informed a bit loudly, pointing his gun at Jack.  
  
"I'm sorry, it's just it's such a pretty boat ... ship," he rapidly rationalized calmly and quickly corrected himself.   
  
"What's your name?!" Mr. Murtogg demanded, holding up his bayonet to a threatening position.   
  
"Smith … or Smitty, if you like."  
  
"What's your purpose in Port Royal, Mr. Smith?" Mr. Mullroy demanded.   
  
"Yeah, and no lies!" Murtogg added.  
  
"Well, then," Jack calmly sighed. "I confess. It is my intention to commandeer one of these ships, pick up a crew in Tortuga, raid, pillage, plunder and otherwise pilfer my weasely black guts out."  
  
"I said no lies!"  
  
"I think he's telling the truth," the Mr. Mullroy informed.  
  
"He's not telling the truth."  
  
"He may be."  
  
"If was telling the truth, he wouldn't have told us!"  
  
"Unless, of course, he knew you wouldn't believe the truth even if he told it to you," Jack cut in with a sly look.  
  
They both threw befuddled gazes at him.

* * *

Now was the hard part. Elizabeth had to wait for her father to be ready to go home. That would take a long time as he was governor and usually left when everyone else was gone. The piccolos were replaced with a beautiful quartet that was now playing a slow ensemble piece in which the violins held the melody.  
  
She fluttered her fan and touched her side. It felt like it was ripping in two and yet caving in at once. She didn't know whether to behave, scream or break into tears. Matters became worse as she found that it appeared as if she'd be there for many more hours.  
  
The new commodore approached her with a small smile and bow. "May I have a moment?"  
  
She forced a small smile through the painful expression she was trying to hide. Her ribs were aching, she couldn't breathe, it was too hot and if she could somehow manage to force down some air, a stabbing pain shot through her chest. She nodded her approval and followed him.  
  
The Commodore had her go up to the parapet of the fort. From there you could see the ocean until it disappeared over the horizon, with boats sailing to and from the harbor. The setting was breathtaking, but not as breathtaking as it was for Elizabeth to get up the stairs- and there were only five! She leaned heavily on the side of the arch that held the (huge) bell of the fort and tried to catch her breath. Her head started to feel light.  
  
The commodore smiled at her a bit nervously with his hands locked behind his back. "You look lovely, Elizabeth," he complimented courteously.  
  
Elizabeth smiled, nodded her thank you and continued to flutter the fan she held in her hand- it was all she could manage. He turned to look out to sea and she mouthed a big "ow!" while he wasn't looking.  
  
"I apologize if I seem forward but I… must speak my mind. This promotion throws into sharp relief that which I have not yet achieved-" Norrington stammered, "– a marriage to a fine woman." 

Elizabeth heard this, but wasn't able to react as she normally would- the air she was trying to take in had become stuck in her chest.   
  
The commodore turned and pierced her with a sincere stare. "_You_ have become a fine woman, Elizabeth."  
  
Elizabeth tried to swallow down the air stuck in her chest. A stabbing pain welled up as she struggled to swallow it- it wasn't working. The world about her began to spin- she needed help.   
"I ... I can't breathe."  
  
"Yes, I'm a bit nervous myself-" but Elizabeth hadn't heard a word that he had uttered. She had fallen over the parapet of Fort Charles in a faint and was now tumbling towards the water below.  
  
Meanwhile, Jack was still desperately attempting to take the _Interceptor_.  
  
"…and then they made me their chief," he was telling a story to the guards.  
  
_ Splash_. Something cascaded into the water at the foot of the cliff some thirty feet away to the starboard side of the ship.  
  
Commodore Norrington hadn't noticed Elizabeth's fall. He looked about him, confused at how quickly she had disappeared. "Elizabeth?" Where had she gone off to? He turned to look behind him and a large spot of white caught the corner of his eye. He speedily looked to see what it was and discovered it to be a large rippling disturbance in the water below. Immediately he recognized what happened.  
  
"Elizabeth!"  
  
He had to save her! She could never swim with a dress as heavy as that holding her down. He set his foot firmly on the parapet and began to strip off his blue jacket, preparing to jump. But, before he could rescue the woman he cared for, a soldier grabbed him from behind to knock some common sense into the rashly thinking commodore. "The rocks, sir! It's a miracle _she_ missed them!"  
  
The commodore stared hopelessly at the water. He was right. But they needed to save Elizabeth. Norrington quickly put his jacket on and raced for the docks, he could save her from there, but only if he got there in time.  
  
"Will you be saving her then?" Jack asked the first guard, aspiring that it would mean he could have a chance to get away with the ship while everyone was distracted with that poor young woman.   
  
Mr. Mullroy looked back at him. "I can't swim," he stammered quickly. Jack peered hopefully at the other, who just shook his head. Apparently, he couldn't swim either!  
  
"Pearl of the King's Navy you are!" Jack muttered angrily as he took off his hat and coat. He had no choice and that made him irate- delays, delays! Nothing but delays! He quickly removed his compass, pistol and cutlass and handed them over to the guards. "Do not lose these." And with those last remarks he took a graceful swan dive from the boat deep into the water.  
  
Elizabeth was sinking slowly in the dark gloom, surrounded in the billowing waves of brass and silver created by her dress, her hair flowing like golden seaweed, and the medallion around her neck floating just above her in the soft current. The medallion erupted with a force of energy that raced out to sea with the speed of lightning. The force could be seen from the surface and looked like a thin circular band of energy that speedily expanded. The sailors saw it.  
  
"What was that?"  
  
Jack kicked furiously and swam to the sea floor. His breath was beginning to run out of patience- his lungs felt as though they were about to explode, but in the water he could just make out the blurry figure of that girl. He had to get to her! His chest had the feeling of a balloon filled with too much water- stretching beyond its limit, but from somewhere inside a new determination suddenly burned and he kicked harder than ever.   
  
Reaching the girl, he grabbed her around the waist and kicked with all his strength against the sea floor. He shot toward the surface like an arrow and, with his head, broke through the water's skin to a cold breeze. He gasped and took in some air and then felt himself being dragged down underneath the water again. The girl- she was pulling him down. But … but that was impossible- a woman would feel like a feather in the water. What was wrong?   
  
He felt her waist with his hands. It was… fuzzy? Velvet! Her dress was velvet. It had soaked up the water, becoming a dead weight and began dragging her down. That was the problem! He fumbled about her waist and then found where it was laced. He grabbed it and ripped the bodice wide open. The gown fell and floated slowly down to the sea's floor as Jack pulled her out of the dress and was able to easily carry her to the surface.  
  
Norrington's men got closer to the dock. The sky was beginning to dim and the temperature was dropping. In the distance a mass of grey clouds could be seen approaching Port Royal.

As Jack climbed on the deck he felt the weight of her body fall upon his shoulder. The soldiers came running down the dock to assist Jack. Mr. Mullroy set down his rifle and took Elizabeth from Jack. "I got her."   
  
He laid her on the deck and picked off the hair that had fallen across her face. Her chest wasn't moving. He bent down and put his ear to her mouth. "Not breathing!" he vented in an almost taunting tone.  
  
"Move!" Jack commanded and he knelt next to Elizabeth, Mullroy's bayonet in hand. Mr. Mullroy back away as Jack took the bayonet and slit Elizabeth's corset down the middle. He tore the corset off and handed it to Mr. Murtogg as Elizabeth's chest gave a tremendous heave and she coughed up all the water she inhaled in her unconsciousness.  
  
"Never would have thought of that!" Mr. Mullroy stammered, watching awestruck.  
  
Jack looked back at him, still breathing hard and dripping wet from the swim. "Clearly you've never been to Singapore."  
  
Elizabeth looked at her saviors a bit confused. She shifted her weight a bit and the medallion fell from her chest.  
  
And it caught Jack's eye. To Elizabeth's surprise Jack's expression became one of shock and surprise. He took the medallion in his hand and looked it over carefully. "Where did you get that?"  
  
Where did she get it? Why was he asking that? She couldn't tell him or else Will's secret would be revealed. But even if she kept her lips sealed, Jack sat there, motionless, waiting for his answer. Didn't he get it, she didn't want to answer? Why wouldn't he go away?  
  
She was spared when a sword came dangerously close to Jack's face. "On your feet."  
  
Commodore Norrington kept his sword pointed directly at Jack's neck as he got to his feet and the sailors added their bayonets to the threat as they gathered behind Norrington. Governor Swann joined in the crowd and was absolutely shocked at finding his daughter lying on the dock with her dress and corset absent. "Elizabeth! Are you alright?!"  
  
"Yes, I'm fine," she stammered as she was helped to her feet and her father placed his coat about her shoulders.  
  
She quickly grabbed the medallion and shoved it underneath her bodice as her father drew her into a hug, a bit disturbed at the idea of Jack knowing what it was. The governor eyed Mr. Murtogg who still held the corset up in a stunned position. Realizing the governor was watching, he quickly hid the corset behind his back and pointed accusingly at Jack.  
  
The governor didn't need a second to think about what had happened. "Shoot him!" he commanded in an angered tone.  
  
The soldiers held their guns up and prepared to fire.  
  
"Father!" Elizabeth stopped them a bit louder than she meant. She paused in embarrassment and then continued in a softer voice. "Commodore, do you really intend to kill my rescuer?"  
  
She eyed her father, waiting for his answer. He looked at the commodore and nodded his approval and Norrington signaled for his men to let their guns down. They did so slowly and quite a bit reluctantly.  
  
Jack felt relief take hold and he turned and nodded a quick thank you to Elizabeth with his hands up in a praying position.  
  
The commodore stuck out his hand stiffly quite suddenly. Jack looked at it hesitantly and Elizabeth eyed him suspiciously, but he only pierced Jack with a cold stare. "I believe thanks are in order," he rationalized.  
  
Jack peeked at both sides of the outstretched hand dubiously and then hesitantly took it for a hand shake. But that wasn't what he received at all.  
  
Norrington yanked Jack's arm forward and pulled his shirt sleeve up just past his wrist to reveal a pale "p" tattooed into his skin.  
  
"Had a brush with the East India Trading company, did we, pirate?" Norrington jeered without any expression upon his face. Jack tried with a grimace to pull his hand away but Norrington held it firmly.  
  
Now, as you can probably imagine, the governor was downright appalled. "Hang him!" he commanded in a high and almost sing-song tone, pulling Elizabeth's coat closer over her shoulders.  
  
"Keep your guns on him, men. Gillette, fetch some irons," Norrington called over his shoulder.  
  
His first mate, Mr. Gillette, ran off to get some manacles for Jack as Norrington (for identification purposes, I assume) lifted up Jack sleeve even further to reveal a blue tattoo of a small bird flying over a sunset-lit sea. "Well, well … Jack Sparrow, isn't it?"  
  
"_Captain_ Jack Sparrow," Jack corrected as he stubbornly jerked his hand away from the commodore, "if you please, sir."  
  
The Commodore looked around himself, in mock surprise. "Well, I don't see your ship … Captain."  
  
"I'm in the market as it were," Jack replied with a snap and loathsome smile.  
  
"He said he'd come to commandeer one," Mr. Murtogg informed.  
  
"Told ya he was telling the truth!" Mr. Mullroy ridiculed as a two year old proving his point would do. He picked up Jack's things and held them out for the commodore to take. "These are his, sir."  
  
Norrington took the pistol first. He looked at it, tossed it from his right hand to his left, opened it looked inside, then closed it and put it back in Jack's hat. "No additional shots nor powder," he took Jack's compass, flipped it open and held it out, "it doesn't bear true..." he set the compass back on Jack's hat and half way drew Jack's sword. He examined the blade and then sneered, "... and I half expected it to be made of wood." He slammed the sword back into its sheath and taunted to Jack's face. "Taking stock: you've got a pistol with only one shot, a compass that doesn't point north ... and no ship. You are, without doubt, the worst pirate I've ever heard of."  
  
Jack held his index fingers up in a position that read,_ wait_! "But you have heard of me," he pointed out and he smiled, quite satisfied as he rocked a bit on his heels.  
  
The commodore, being a bit prideful and knowing Jack had won the match of words, snatched Jack fiercely by the arm and lead him firmly down the dock. He turned Jack over to Mr. Gillette, who had returned and took Jack aside to put him in chains. Commodore surveyed it with a dull and ire look on his face, clearly weary of the pirate.  
  
Elizabeth suddenly stepped away from her father and stood between Norrington and Jack. "Commodore, I really must protest."  
  
Gillette gave Jack's arm a hard jerk in the background and Norrington called a quick, "Carefully Lieutenant!" then paused, waiting for Elizabeth to continue.  
  
"Pirate or not this man saved my life."  
  
"One good deed is not enough to redeem a man of a lifetime of wickedness."  
  
"Though it seems enough to condemn him," Jack put into the conversation, uninvited.  
  
"Indeed," snarled Norrington with a cold glare, somewhat chafed.  
  
Gillette finished putting Jack's manacles on and returned to the commodore's side. Elizabeth remained standing in front of the commodore, piercing him with a provoked glare, expecting to get what she wanted (as that's how life had gone for her ever since she could remember). She wasn't going to stand for the murder of a good person.  
  
"Finally," Jack sighed and he casually walked toward Elizabeth and threw his chain over her neck.  
  
Elizabeth gasped and went rigid with shock as the group jumped simultaneously and the soldiers cocked and raised their guns.  
  
"No, don't shoot!" the governor pleaded, for fear his daughter would be wounded and possibly killed. The commodore remained silent with his brow creased in concern and anxiety.  
  
"I knew you'd warm up to me," Jack sneered over Elizabeth's shoulder. "Commodore Norrington, my effects, please ... and my hat."   
  
Norrington just stood there, thinking the situation through. He didn't want to lose Jack- he was a pirate and needed to be put to justice- but he most unquestionably didn't want to lose the girl. There had to be some way to get the pirate without losing his beloved Elizabeth.  
  
"Commodore!" Jack urged impatiently with a tug at the chain and Elizabeth gasped a bit at the small choke.  
  
The commodore lowered his eyes a little, obviously daunted, then he turned and nodded to Mr. Mullroy. There was no other way. Mr. Mullroy handed Jack's effects (and hat) to Mr. Gillette, who handed it to Commodore Norrington. Norrington passed the things to Elizabeth and Jack snatched the pistol from the top, cocked it and pointed at Elizabeth's temple. "Elizabeth- it is Elizabeth, isn't it?"  
  
"It's Miss Swann," she snarled back through gritted teeth.  
  
He spun around to face him but with chain still pulling on the back of her neck and pistol still pressed to her temple. "Miss Swann, if you'd be so kind."   
  
She did nothing. At first she was angry, angry at the fact that this villain turned on her when she was trying to help him all along. But now, she began to hate him. She didn't want to help him. "Come, come, dear, we don't have all day." She glared at him and began to redress Jack. He smiled open-mouthed, a bit amused at the prospect of the young lady dressing him so grudgingly.  
  
She took his hat and placed it roughly on his dirty head.  
  
"Now if you'd be very kind."   
  
She took the strap to his sword and reached her arms around him to buckle it on properly. To do this it required a "hug" and Jack grinned happily at the begrudging look on the commodore's face at this. She finished putting his belt on and yanked it harshly to pull it tight. "Easy on the goods, darling."  
  
"You're despicable," she growled as she finished.  
  
"Sticks and stones, love. I saved your life, you saved mine, we're square," Jack replied. He spun her back around and pinned her close to him by pressing his forearm to her neck. He began to slowly back down the dock with gun under her jaw. This gave her an awful fright. She did what he wanted, now why wasn't he letting her go? "Gentlemen, milady, you will always remember this as the day that you almost caught Captain Jack Sparrow!"  
  
And with that he shoved Elizabeth back into the arms of the commodore. He turned and grabbed a rope that held a cannon hoisted up in the air. He hit a lever that held the end opposite of the cannon's rope down and was carried up into the air as the heavy cannon dropped down and left a yawning hole on the dock below.  
  
"Now, will you shoot him?!" Governor Swann shouted a bit perturbed.  
  
"Open fire!" the commodore bellowed his command, clutching Elizabeth close to him.  
  
Jack bonked his head on a beam to which the rope's pulley hung from like a giant crane. He quickly grabbed another rope which pulled a latch at the base of the beam allowing it to pivot in a circle freely. There was a sudden explosion of sound from the soldiers firing at Jack as he spun in circles in the air. He kicked his feet out like a buffoon and yelled.  
  
"On his heels!" Norrington commanded. Why weren't they hitting him?  
  
Jack took control of his madly spinning rope and landed on another beam that was lower but similar to the first one. This beam had a long rope tied from its end to a wooded arch about 20 meters away and 5 meters lower. He folded the chain to his manacles over and then threw the folded chain over the rope and grabbed it with his left hand so that his right hand hung loosely, his left gripped the chain and he was able to hang from the rope. He kicked off the beam and swung down the rope like a zip-line, then, when he got low in enough, he dropped and bolted down the deck.  
  
"Open fire!" Norrington commanded again.   
  
Jack ran across a bridge with bullets pelting and ricocheting in every direction. Two commoner friends who were walking on the bridge even had to duck and take cover as Jack ran past them and took off to hide in the village.  
  
"Gillette, Mr. Sparrow has a dawn appointment with the gallows…," Norrington said to his awaiting lieutenant as soldiers marched in after Jack, "I would hate for him to miss it."  
  
Gillette nodded. A squad of soldiers took off into the streets and alleys of Port Royal as Jack Sparrow disappeared into a fine mist that had settled about the vicinity.  
  
Elizabeth walked up, in quite a bad mood, with her father scurrying to keep up with her. The Commodore turned to them.  
  
"Elizabeth, are you-"  
  
"Yes! I'm alright! I'm fine!" she snapped back in a tone so perturbed and angry that the commodore found himself blinking back at her quite stupidly. "Go capture him!"  
  
Norrington timidly nodded and went off after the pirate whilst she sighed and watched after him in frustration. Her father, (although slightly disappointed in her behavior), draped his coat on her shoulders, understanding her frustration after such a fright as what she had just been through. "Here, dear … you should wear this."  
  
"Thank you," said quietly, pulling the coat closer about her shoulders. She looked out at the streets of Port Royal once more for a moment, thinking quietly to herself. Finally, she turned back to her father, "And let that be the last of your fashion advice, please."  
  
There was difficulty in finding Jack. It may have been a trick of the fog but he had presumably just disappeared. Regardless, Gillette's men went to where they believed they saw him go: a corner where the blacksmith's shop and local pub was located. He wasn't there. Looking around, they saw the pub atop a short staircase. Perhaps he thought he could blend with the crowd? They decided that they could go there and needn't look in the forge, for it was always locked. "Search upstairs. Look lively, men."  
  
They searched the area and found nothing. So, they continued on towards another part of town. A sword that was clutched in a statue's hand withdrew on its own and Jack stepped out from his hiding spot with grin on his face. They were so ignorant.  
  
They crossed the street again and Jack felt his blood run cold. All he needed was for one of them to look to the side and he'd be gone- they were way too close. He looked at the area about him and noticed the door to his left. The sign above the door read the word _Brown_ and had a hammer and anvil. He tried the door. It was open! He sighed with relief as he stepped into the small establishment and shut the door behind him, unnoticed.


	4. Wooing Your Lady

**Chapter IV-**  
_"Wooing Your Lady"_

The room was dimly lit by lanterns. It was so dim, in fact, that Jack had to slightly squint to see properly. As he inhaled, perfumes that smelt strongly of horse feed, dust and fire wafted about his nose. It was warm in the room and, compared to the chill outside, it was quite cozy.  
  
The ground was a dirt floor strewn with hay in an attempt to keep the dust down and things cleaner. A large furnace burned opposite to the door that Jack had just entered and a little to the right of the door there was a donkey who was tied up with a harness and was used to turn a big axle that pumped the billows for heating the furnace. To the left of the door, there was an old cart with two wheels in its very middle. The door was set on a cement step that was about 2 ½ higher than the forge's ground and the cart was propped up against this giant step on one side, setting it at a slant, like a ramp. The roof was made to be airy. If it rained, the person inside wouldn't have much cover. This was probably to let smoke and heat out easily, guessing from the large furnace.  
  
All over the shop there were candles and tools- wrenches, pliers, grips, vices, nails, hammers (some nice big ones and lots of them too), anvils, a grindstone....   
  
'_This must be the blacksmiths forge. How perfect is that?! This place probably has all the proper tools that I need to get these bloody manacles off my wrists_!' He set his hat on the furnace's brick threshold and began to look around. He selected the hammer of his choice and made for the anvil where the blacksmith seemed to do most of his work.  
  
_Clink_. The sound of a glass bottle hitting the ground broke the silence and the sound of gentle snoring made Jack freeze in his tracks. Someone else was there.   
  
He slowly turned toward the snoring. In the corner a pudgy man with a leather apron and dirty commoners clothing lay slumped in his chair. His face was greasy, had a little bit of dirt here and there, and he looked a bit wrinkly. He had thick, dirty-dirty-dirty-filthy blond (in fact I'd say it was more light brown), furry sideburns and was balding at the top of his fuzzy head. Hopefully he was drunk, because he smelt drunk.  
  
Jack noiselessly tiptoed up to the man and peered at him closely. Looked drunk. He poked him harshly in the chest. The man just sputtered and continued to snore, this time a bit more noisily. Sounded drunk.... After waiting for a few seconds Jack gave a shrug and began to walk away.

"WHOA!" he thundered, spinning around and facing the drunk once again.   
  
Nothing. '_Okay_.'  
  
He took the hammer in his hand and laid the chain on the anvil, pulling it tight between his wrists. He attempted to strike the chain with enough force to break it into two (which is hard enough without heating first) while still trying to keep his wrists at the lengthy distance of a foot and a half apart, holding the chain tight. He snapped his wrist forward and tried to hit the chain. It slackened and he altogether missed it in first place. He tried again. Same deal. He tried throwing his arm at a really fast speed. Same result. He rapidly tried to pin the chain with out moving anything but his right hand (which held the hammer). Finally he gave up, threw the hammer down and shook the chains ferociously, snapping and pulling them tight like a two-year-old child in a mad fit.  
  
The donkey in the corner gave a snort- probably laughing at what an ass Jack was making of himself- and Jack looked up at the beast. He looked at the harness. It was attached to a pole planted vertically into the ground that was roughly the height of a very large man and the width of a fairly average palm tree.  
  
His eyes darted up the "palm tree" and saw that it had a large gear about three feet in diameter secured atop it. Another gear the exact same size stood perpendicular to the first gear and, if turned, it turned the other gear with it like the works of a giant clock. The second gear also had a "palm tree" secured to it, only this one was horizontal. The pole was connected to a turny-levery-crank thing that was attached to a small, wooden wheel that made the billows pump the furnace.  
  
Now, why am I telling you this? Well, believe it or not, amongst all of this "advanced" machinery Jack had an idea sprung in his head.  
  
He pulled out of the fire a metal tool that had been sitting in the red coals for some time now and was thrilled to find it was a metal stoke with a brilliantly red-glowing tip. He sauntered over to the donkey and, taking one last close-up look at the hook, touched the curved side to the donkey's rump.  
  
There was a sizzle and the donkey let out a high-pitched squeal. The aroma of burnt hair was added to the atmosphere and the donkey began to walk in circles (as the harness prevented it from walking in another way), attempting to escape the possibility of another butt-burn.  
  
The "palm tree" began to turn, so did the gear at its top. Then the first gear turned the second gear, pumping the bellows with the loud _clank, clank, clank, clanketty, clanketty, clank, clank, clanketty, clank, clank, clank, clank, clank_ of the gears and poles and wheels turning and the occasional _fwoosh_ of the fire receiving the air of the bellows joyously.  
  
Jack tossed the hook onto the ground and grabbed his chain. He looped the chain over the tooth of the first gear and pulled down strongly as it edged closer to meet with the other gear. There was a horrible grinding as the two colliding gears were brought to a halt by the disrupting chain. They squeezed and jerked violently when they finally snapped the chain in two, and continued to turn on their clanky way.  
  
Yes! Now that his hands could move separately Jack could work on breaking off the manacles one wrist at a time.  
  
However, he didn't have time to even start looking. He jumped as the latch on the forge's door moved with a loud, ominous clack. Someone was coming in, and this time he probably wouldn't be an old, ugly, dirty man that acted, looked and smelt like he was dead drunk. He dove for cover just as a tall young man dressed in brown stepped into the now noisy shop. Jack peered at him before vanishing- he most definitely did not look drunk.  
  
It was Will, but, of course, Jack did not know this. He had just come from attempting to help the guards find a pirate that apparently had threatened Miss Swann with death by shooting ... or chain. He, however, knew nothing of the pirate, and the commodore did not wish to have the black smith in his way. So, Will (after much argument and protesting) made his way back to the quiet of his forge.  
  
He locked the door, quickly looking over his shoulder with a confused look on his face as he did. What was going on here? He jumped off the small ledge and reached out and grabbed the donkey's harness. He pulled it to a stop and calmed it in no time by gently petting its muzzle. He looked up and scanned the forge suspiciously as he rose to his feet, searching for an explanation to the spooking of his donkey.   
  
He conclusively decided that it heard a noise outside, but still gave one of the dark corners he last looked at an equivocal glance as he stripped his jacket and dropped it on a barrel that was used as a small table. He went to check on his master, Mr. Brown. He smiled to himself as he discovered that he was slumped in his favorite corner in his favorite unconscious position with an empty bottle of his favorite drink at his feet.   
  
"Right where I left you," Will half-chuckled. He began to unbutton the upper half of the worn-out vest he wore. It was time to get to work. He walked toward his anvil to pick up his apron. He frowned when he got there.   
  
"Not where I left _you_." Why was his hammer lying on his anvil? He quickly finished unbuttoning his vest down to the bottom of his sternum, revealing a loose, white shirt with a wide collar underneath, and reached for his hammer, a bemused expression fixed upon hi face.  
  
He jerked his head sharply to his right when he thought he saw something out of the corner of his eye. Surely enough, there it was as he thought he saw: a leather three-cornered hat lying on the furnace.   
  
'_That's not my hat ... and Mr. Brown doesn't have one like that either.... How did it get there_?' Perhaps someone stopped by while he was gone? He reached out to grab the hat. What if there was a name or something on it that would lead him to the owner?  
  
A sword laid flat slapped the back of Will's hand lightly before his fingertips could touch the hat. Will jumped a bit inside and looked quickly up at the owner only to have any surprise inside him be replaced with dire hatred. For the young blacksmith came face to face with the one thing responsible for his near-death experience he had as a lad: a pirate. A no good, grimy, black-hearted scallywag of a pirate, too, by the looks of it. Of course, most pirates were like that.  
  
He looked the pirate over from head to foot as he slowly backed away, dropping his hand to his side. Jack looked Will up and down too, but not for the same reason.   
  
"You're the one they're hunting," Will slowly realized aloud. "The pirate."  
  
Jack continued to look at Will with an eyebrow raised and an expression engraved into his face that suggested he couldn't remember something. "You seem somewhat familiar. Have I threatened you before?" finally he spoke, rather quickly.  
  
Will glared back. "I make a point of avoiding familiarity with pirates."  
  
"Ah! Well, then it would be a shame to put a black mark on your record," Jack spun around on his heel and made for the back door, apparently satisfied, "So, if you'll excuse me –"  
  
Will turned, grabbing a sword off a nearby rack and pointed it toward the area between Jack's shoulder blades in an _en garde_ position. He didn't get it. _This_ is what Will meant by he avoided familiarity - a pirate never lived to threaten him again.  
  
Jack stopped and cursed the youth. Another delay. He turned around slowly, with a small smile on his face, hiding his true feelings about the situation- he felt too tired and lazy to fight right now. But the boy was highly confident and obviously uneducated in the nature of pirates if he wasn't even the least bit frightened to challenge him. He smiled a little broader as he spoke, "Do you think this wise, boy,... crossing blades with a pirate?"  
  
"You threatened Miss Swann," Will replied simply with an unwavering glower and holding his sword up a little closer to Jack's head.  
  
Jack looked at the highly polished edge that the boy held under his chin and responded by laying his blade next to it and running it down and then up Will's blade again. He then stood with his sword and feet placed in a ready position for fighting, but his opposite arm lying loosely at his side. "Only a little," he whispered with a small, reassuring grin spread across his face.  
  
He swung swiftly twice at Will, who reacted quickly and blocked both even faster. That didn't worry Jack, they were simple moves used just for testing reflexes. He slashed and cut six more times at Will, backing the young blacksmith until he almost reached the front door of the forge. But, to Jack's surprise, Will backed him off by slicing through the air artistically twice, reaching for Jack's face and causing Jack to have to lean back and avoid the attack.  
  
Jack, in fact, even _stepped away_ and Will rebrandished his sword with a devilish smirk. That was all too easy for him! He attacked Jack six times back with expertly executed moves and speedily backed Jack to where they had begun.  
  
Will threw a final stab which Jack blocked by a couple of inches. It then occurred to Jack that this boy was no ordinary landlubber. He needed to get out of there and stop playing before he got himself into a bind that would lead him to the prison and eventually the gallows.   
  
He pushed Will's sword aside in a lazy fashion, but peered at him with curiosity. "You know what you're doing, I'll give you that. Excellent form... but how's your footwork?"   
  
Will raised his head a little with slight surprise at the remark. He was toying with the pirate, going easy on him, but it appeared as if the pirate was toying with him too. At first it made Will angry that he wasn't to be taken seriously, but then his thoughts changed. He would continue to play. Then the pirate would be horribly surprised when he lost to a young blacksmith of Port Royal, and Norrington would see the error of his ways. He'd show all of them....  
  
"First step here...," Jack continued in an instructing tone as the two stepped carefully together, circling together like two wild animals ready to fight, and they cut and slashed three times. "Very good. And then I step again. And so we circle … circle, like dogs we circle." This time the circling was taken to a bit of a run as Jack ran around Will, blocking his blows, slicing back quicker than ever and trying anxiously to get Will to cross his legs and, hopefully, trip and fall.  
  
Unfortunately, Will did not cross his legs and he did not fall and Jack moved until the door of the forge was at his back. He gave a finally cut with a stomp from his front foot and lurch from his back- as if he were lunging. Then, to Will's surprise, the pirate sheathed his sword with a bit of a nod, a grin and a friendly, "Ta!" as he excused himself and nonchalantly made for the door.   
  
Will paused for a second. Ta? Was he joking? He couldn't just walk out of a fight like that. Will watched as Jack climbed the small ledge in front of the door and reached for the handle. He wasn't joking. Well, he wasn't leaving either, not if Will could help it. His arm moved in a flash, back then forward as he threw his sword at Jack, which flew over Jack's left shoulder and buried itself deep in the planks of the door.  
  
Jack turned and stared, wide-eyed, at the sword sticking out of the door as it still quivered from its plantation. He slowly looked at Will and back at the sword again. This kid couldn't be real- not even _he_, the Captain Jack Sparrow, the best pirate in the Caribbean, in fact, in the whole world (of course, this is Jack's ego speaking), could do that and he certainly had a lot more experience.  
  
He swallowed and grabbed the sword's handle, bringing its shaking to an abrupt stop. Then, after repositioning his grip, he gave the sword a good heave upward. It didn't budge. In fact, the door just shook upward with it. He repositioned his footing to get a firmer base and heaved harder. Still it refused to be moved. He shook it up and down, jumping to add force frantically over and over and over and it still did not move.   
  
He threw his hands down, stared at the sword with pure hatred, cursed it and its thrower under his breath, and then spun around and smiled at Will sweetly, who had been watching the whole time quite amused.  
  
"That is a wonderful trick!" Jack practically taunted as he used the cart to walk back down to Will. "Except once again you are between me and my way out. And now," he redrew his sword with a grin, "you have no weapon."   
  
Will's response? Well, he had calmly cautiously glancing over his shoulder the whole time Jack spoke, then, when Jack stopped talking, he simply turned around and pulled a new sword out of the furnace. Jack's confidence and smile evaporated when he saw that it's end glowed red with fresh heat- just like the determination in Will's eyes. The donkey gave another squeal and began turning the wheel anew from fear of being burnt again.  
  
Will attacked Jack and sparks flew from his blade every time their blade connected. Jack used little tricks like hiding behind a pole, popping around it as Will thrust and then whacking Will's butt with the flat side of his sword before the blacksmith could turn around.  
  
They cut, thrust, slashed and clanged until Jack managed to disarm Will by swinging the chain that still hung about his wrist at his sword and whacking it away. He grinned at getting rid of his opponents weapon and lunged for an attack. Will ran and jumped over the spinning wheel his donkey turned, somersaulting and running to another pole for cover. Jack pursued him as Will pulled a sword from a rack that was wrapped around the pole and blocked Jack's attack. Jack was surprised at this move. He looked and saw that there were some twenty swords on that rack and, attacking Will again, he saw that there were several racks about the forge with swords on them. There had to be a hundred swords in there- possibly more! He swung at Will, who blocked once again.  
  
"Who makes all these?!" he asked, quite astounded at the new sight.  
  
"I do!" Will replied and slashed at Jack who blocked. " And I practice with them" he swung again and pulled around the other side of the pole as jack threw a sledge hammer at his head, "three hours a day!" He swung once more then thrust for Jack.  
  
Jack dodged the thrust and moved to the other side of the pole. "You need to find yourself a girl, mate!" he joked.   
  
Will became angered by this remark and jumped for Jack. Jack ran away from the pole and grabbed a hammer in his other hand as Will's sword smacked the pole where Jack's head was. Will grabbed another sword and blocked an attack by Jack with his swords in a cross formation overhead. They pushed on their weapons.  
  
Then Jack spoke, continuing their conversation. "Or, perhaps the reason you practice three hours a day is that you already found one and are otherwise incapable of wooing said strumpet.... You're not a eunuch, are you?" He made a disgusted face and couldn't help but look down.  
  
Will became infuriated. Even if it was just a lucky guess, the fact that Jack could just pull out Will's problems and lay them out in front of them a few seconds after their introductions to each other was provoking. And he was insulted at the same time- he was most definitely not a eunuch and how dare he label Elizabeth with a title such as "strumpet." But above all of that rubbish, how did he guess his problem with his emotions for Elizabeth so perfectly? It was disturbing.  
  
The rage shone like a mad blaze in Will's eyes and Jack felt himself beginning to shrink back.   
  
"I practice three hours a day, so that when I meet a pirate, I can kill it!" Will spat and he threw all his weight upon his swords and shoved Jack backwards. But Jack grinned. He had found a weak spot.  
  
Jack backed onto the cart and climbed up to the edged that was raised. Will followed and as soon as he set foot on the cart, the wooden chalk that held the cart in place snapped in two from the men's weight. The cart lurch forward and the raised end slipped off the ledge that it was propped up on, causing it to wobble as it crept slowly forward and the men had to balance each other out on the moving teeter-toter.  
  
After a series of beats Will got Jack to drop the hammer and swung for his contender. Jack used the chain that was still on his wrist again. He swung it and wrapped it around Will's sword and attempted to yank the sword from Will's hand. However, Will was once again far too quick. He twisted the point of his sword through a link of the chain and stabbed it up into a banister above, leaving Jack almost hanging by his manacled wrist. He then raised his sword and swung for Jack's neck to end his foe.  
  
Jack swung his sword madly causing Will to have to back to the edge of the cart, then Jack stomped hard on the cart with his right foot. A loose board sprung up and cracked Will beneath the jaw, sending the young swords master backwards to land on the hard floor with a thud.  
  
Jack pulled and tugged down upon his chain, but the sword refused to budge. '_No! Not again, not now_!' Jack thought as he looked down to see Will get up from his blow completely a-okay and with an ominous smile glowing on his face. He tugged harder. This was a cheap and stupid trick.  
  
Will began to reapproach Jack and Jack began to feel an emotion that he had not felt in a very long time: panic. This _kid _had him! This ruddy schweg-bellied rat had caught him and was going to kill him, right here, right now! No! He couldn't die, not yet! He had to get out of here! He needed help! He placed his feet up on the beam where the sword had stuck and, using them as extra force, began pulling on the sword as hard as he could. Jack tugged and tugged and finally the sword came free. '_Uh-oh_,' he thought. He fell and slammed hard onto the cart underneath him just as Will stepped on the other side, causing the cart to act as a catapult and shoot Will into the rafters.  
  
Jack rolled head over heels and bumped his noggin against the wall behind him. His hand fell upon the hilt of his sword. Grabbing it, he shook his head and jumped to his feet, climbed onto his side of the cart (which was now the lower side) and looked about him. Why- where was that kid anyway? Did he run into the shadows? He scanned the room and started to panic when he couldn't find his opponent. He looked up and he smiled as he finally discovered him, hiding like a child in the rafters. Will smiled back when Jack spotted him and raised his sword.  
  
Will slashed his sword and cut a rope that held a large net full of heavy objects hoisted in the air.  
  
Jack's smile vanished as he realized two things too late. One: Will wasn't hiding; two: he might try to catapult him into the rafters too. And he was right. The big load fell on the opposite end of the cart, hurling Jack high up into the air. Jack caught a beam just as he was going to begin his trip down. The wind was knocked out of him as the beam banged harshly against his chest.   
  
'_That bloated infernal cur!_' he thought as he struggled with pulling himself up and jumped onto a nearby beam, facing Will, who was staring knives at him. Jack wasn't going to get away that easily.  
  
The beam that Jack was standing on laid perpendicular to two parallel beams that were about four feet or so apart. Jack was practically on the one on his right, Will was standing on the one to Jack's left. Will glowered as he jumped and landed on the beam that Jack was standing on, intending to be able to meet up with him and fight him back down. But Will's plan was thwarted as Jack jumped on Will's beam at the same time, intending to do the exact same thing. They quickly realized they were still on opposite beams and accidently switched beams again. They almost did it a third time, except Will stopped himself from jumping and Jack hopped back onto Will's beam before he changed his mind. Jack gave a toothy smile as he rocked back and forth, attempting to keep his balance.  
  
His grin was erased once again, however, as Will returned it with a not-so-friendly grin and moved in for another attack. They cut five times in broken phases, as they were both rocking back and forth a bit, attempting to stay balanced and crouching down, trying not to bump their heads on the low ceiling. Will moved to another lower beam and Jack followed and blocked as Will swung again. This kid could go at it. Jack was already beginning to slow down and Jack was only just beginning to see the sweat break on Will. It was ridiculous!  
  
'_This kid is fast_.' They cut five more times- this time very rapidly and all in one moment- when Will threw a sixth quick but unbelievably powerful blow that sent Jack's sword sailing out of his hand and over his shoulder behind him. '_Really fast_.' He felt helpless.  
  
Will gave a triumphant smile with a breathless laugh and brandished his sword again. He was breathing hard and sweat was shining on his face and chest but now he had the villain, and he wasn't going to let a surrender be the cause of him passing his opportunity by. He was a pirate, and pirates were always better dead. Jack chuckled a bit nervously and then turned to make a run for it. He dropped off the end of the beam and held on with his fingertips for a second, readying to let go, then landed on the furnace's threshold below. When he looked up, however, and Will was already standing there with his sword leveled at him.... He had run in the opposite direction, flipped gracefully over the beam and landed while Jack was still hanging for that split second.  
  
Jack was scared. He looked frantically around for a weapon or some sort of defense when his eye fell on a gunnysack full of a light brown dirt right beside the bellows. Will was feeling very successful a few seconds ago, but now he saw what Jack was looking at and ran to stop him. The bag was used as a counterweight, without it the furnace would break after so long of running. Unfortunately for Will, Jack dumped the contents out in front of the bellows as it began to compress and Will was showered in a cloud of dirt. Jack effortlessly kicked Will's sword from his hand, then jumped down to level ground.  
  
Will stumbled back, covering his eyes, choking and coughing. He bumped against the furnace's threshold and his hand began to search for another sword or something that he could use to throw Jack off for a while. His fingers found their way to some pliers just as the dirt began to settle. He picked the pliers up, raised the tool to hit Jack and then came to a sudden stop.... Jack's pistol was aimed right between Will's eyes. What was going on?  
  
Will gave Jack a questioning look. "You cheated."  
  
"Pirate!" Jack reminded the boy.  
  
The front door suddenly rattled as the guards attempted to break in. Jack had to leave. Now.  
  
He made to pass Will and go for the door just behind him, but Will purposely blocked his path. Jack motioned him to step aside, "Move away!"   
  
"No," Will muttered.  
  
"_Please_, move?" Jack pleaded with a nod of his head to emphasize the word 'please.'  
  
"No! I cannot just step aside and let you escape," Will whispered back as he cast a nervous glance at the door.  
  
The door began to break as it was hit with a hard force. That was it. Jack cocked his pistol. Will still did not move. Blast this kid, he must have been insane or something! Didn't he care about dying? Jack couldn't shoot him, he couldn't afford to lose this shot. "This shot is not meant for you," he growled.  
  
Will froze for a moment with eyes filled with curiosity. What did he mean by that?  
  
Jack took a deep breath and made to pull the trigger. He did _not_ want to do this. Some glass object suddenly shattered on the back of Jack's head. Jack's eye's went unfocused, and then, dropping the pistol, he fell to the floor to reveal little Mr. Brown (who was too short to be seen by Will, standing behind Jack the way he was) just as the front door came down and armed soldiers rushed into the room.   
  
The donkey froze with surprise as the soldiers ran past it and surrounded Jack, Will and Mr. Brown, who was clutching what appeared to be the neck of a broken rum bottle in his tiny hands. Commodore Norrington pushed through the front of the group. He took a quick look at Jack and grinned. "Excellent work, Mr. Brown. You've just assisted in the capture of a dangerous fugitive."  
  
"Just doing my civic duty, sir," the little man replied in his croaky voice that reminded Will very much of a frog or toad as Mr. Brown looked up at the tall Naval Commander.  
  
Will sighed. Well, guess that meant that Mr. Brown would receive credit for his work for the second time that day and by Governor Swann and Commodore Norrington, the two most important men in Port Royal- a new record! And yet, he wasn't all that surprised. It was too much of a daily routine to have him be at all surprised. He was, however, exhausted and the dirt that Jack had sprayed him with was starting to cake on him thanks to the sweat he had built up during the fight. He fought that whole time only to be overshadowed again. _'Oh well. C'est la vie.'  
_  
"Well, I trust you'll always remember this as the day that Captain Jack Sparrow almost escaped," Norrington jeered with silent delight. "Take him away." He smiled to himself. No pirate ever escaped from James Norrington- especially one who threatened Elizabeth.  
  
Mr. Brown sadly gazed down at the broken pieces that remained of his beloved drink. "That rotter broke my bottle,"he mourned softly.  
  
Darkness crept over the town as the sun sank below the horizon in a brilliant sunset of gold and red. Then the stars began to come out and night came. The moon rose and spread its silver hue only barely, as it was hidden behind a large cloud. A thick fog had gathered about the harbor and it became quite chilly for a night in Jamaica. Everything was silent. Even the big black ship that began to make its way into the harbor.


	5. The Black Pearl

**Chapter V-**  
_"The Black Pearl"_

"Come here, boy!"  
  
"Want a nice juicy bone?"   
  
"Come here. Come on!"  
  
Jack sat in his cell on a bench, leaning against the wall with his hat tilted over his eyes. He was resting and thinking at the same time. The kid with whom he had fought had worn him out amazingly so he decided to recover his strength while trying to think of a plan to get out of this mess. The four men in the next cell, however, had already thought up their plan of escape and were busy trying to lure a dog that had the keys to every cell in its mouth. They tried calling it, waggling a bone as a temptation, and even forcing it to come by trying to toss a roped tied into a noose around the mutt's neck.  
  
The prison was inside of Fort Charles, so it was therefore made almost completely out of stone, and, unusually enough, it was stuffy. The jail cells had dirt laid on the ground to soften it up just a tad. The windows had no glass but were barred and in the dimly lit depths of the gloom, you could hear the occasional drip, drip, dripping of water leaking from the waves that splashed on the walls.  
  
The men continued to call and whistle at the dog who just sat and stared back, a good distance away.  
  
"You can keep doing that forever, the dog is never going to move," Jack spoke out of his hat after he was sure the men would give up.  
  
"Oh," a nervous and twitchy prisoner replied, turning back to face Jack, his hands still clutching a bone outside the cell door, "excuse us if we haven't resigned ourselves to the gallows just yet."  
  
There was an awkward silence and then the prisoner returned to trying to call the dog. Jack peeked out from his hat and grinned. So confident, and yet so stupid. He hid back under his cave-like covering again, returning to his hat with a chuckle. They'd be giving up soon.

* * *

Elizabeth's maid filled a bedpan with warm coals and set it beneath her mattress. Not ferociously hot coals, as that would be uncomfortable. They were warm. Just perfectly and snugly warm. "There you go, Miss. It was a difficult day for you, I'm sure."  
  
"Yes," Elizabeth sighed, not looking up from her book (which, whether you find it coincidental or not, was about the deeds of the infamous Captain Jack Sparrow). "I suspected Commodore Norrington would propose but I must admit I wasn't entirely prepared for it."  
  
Her maid paused. "Well, I meant you being threatened by that pirate, sounds terrifying."  
  
Elizabeth waited for a moment, and then looked up and smiled slightly, partially from embarrassment and partially from agreement. "Oh, yes, it was terrifying."  
  
"But the Commodore proposed? Fancy that! Now, that's a smart match, Miss, if it's not too bold to say."  
  
"It is a smart match," Elizabeth agreed. After all, isn't that what society agreed to? "He's a fine man; he's what any woman should dream of marrying...."  
  
Her maid twitched a smile, catching that Elizabeth didn't say 'would' but 'should.' As in she should dream of marrying Norrington, but, oddly enough, didn't. Maybe she needed reassurance? "Well, that Will Turner," she began, "he's a fine man, too."  
  
Elizabeth looked at her maid in a strict fashion. "That is too bold," she scolded sternly. "Will Turner is a blacksmith- no, a blacksmith's boy apprentice."  
  
"Well, begging your pardon, Miss, it was not my place," her maid apologized with a reassuring nod and left the room with a soft snap of the door.  
  
Elizabeth turned back in her book and tried to read. However, he attempts were futile as set her book down and was swept away in her thoughts again. Perhaps what she had said was too bold? No. No, for her reason was good one, a noble one. She couldn't let anyone know about her infatuation toward Will. Such a thing was unheard of. Completely wrong and immoral. And with the way that gossip sped, her father and he, Will himself, might catch word of it and it would be severely frowned upon. Hence, she had a good reason.  
  
Nonetheless, she bit her lip as she began to feel ashamed. The situation had become so difficult and complicated that she found herself lying to even her closest friends. She knew she could trust Estella (it had just been made obvious that she already knew but was keeping silent), and yet she found herself telling her the exact opposite of her thoughts and innermost feelings.  
  
But her purpose was just, wasn't it? If her father found out, he'd be gobsmacked. She couldn't be in love with Will, that wasn't supposed to happen. She was the governor's daughter and he was a, well, a blacksmith's apprentice. A poor, dirty, low-class, run-down, no-good blacksmith's apprentice who couldn't do anything more than assist his master in his work. That was it. Thus, she was denying it and it was amongst the biggest lies she had ever told. Because with the way he made her feel when he visited, when he smiled, when he spoke to her; it was actual, true, perfect, undeniable fact: she was hopelessly in love.  
  
She jerked out of her thoughts when she noticed the flame of her oil lamp flickering in a draft of wind. Only, how could it be flickering if she neither felt a draft nor were their any windows open? Another gust of air blew and then the light flickered lower and suddenly went out.

* * *

It may have been icy cold outside, but with a roaring fire going and a well-built abode, the blacksmith's forge was stifling hot. Will was sweating as he progressed on the sword he had been working on for the past hour.   
  
Mr. Brown wasn't helping. He never did. Every item made by the blacksmith in Port Royal and every blacksmith's item that was exported from Port Royal was really the craft of Mr. Turner's hands, not Mr. Brown's. In fact, Mr. Brown stopped working a long time ago and no one even realized it. He laid in his favorite corner, drinking or already drunk almost all the time. Will didn't opposed or even say anything. He just did his work and gave his master the credit. Hopefully, though, one day someone would discover his gift and he could become his own blacksmith, so he could get his own higher pay. Perhaps he could even take his work back to England or to the Northern Colonies?  
  
The blade he was working on was still in the form of an ingot, glowing a reddish orange and sparks flew from it as he pounded it once, twice, three time, a fourth time, and stopped in mid-swing. What was that noise outside?  
  
He crept to the window and slowly pushed it open. It creaked as it moved and revealed a dark and empty alleyway. His face soothed with pleasure as the icy air licked his sweltering hot face, and then ran down his upper-body, cooling it off. He peered down the street. Nothing was there except for a fine mist about the ground and a stray black cat trotting past his window and down the street.

* * *

Commodore Norrington and Governor Swann were walking along the parapet of Fort Charles, chatting and keeping each other company. It didn't take too long for their conversation to turn to the direction of Elizabeth. She was, after all, a close woman of the two.  
  
"Has my daughter given you an answer yet?"  
  
"No, she hasn't," the commodore sounded a bit disheartened at this remark.  
  
"Well, she _has_ had a very trying day," the governor pointed out cheerfully. He walked a bit ahead of the commodore, who had stopped and was thinking in his own world. "Ghastly weather, don't you think?" the Governor continued.  
  
Norrington sighed and looked out over the sleeping town of Port Royal. "Bleak. Very bleak." Elizabeth was probably at home sleeping at the moment....  
  
Governor Swann gave a small chuckle. The commodore was always so straight-forward. He frowned. "What's that?" he asked as a strange almost whistling noise sounded through the air, steadily growing louder.  
  
Norrington listened to the sound and it only took him one second before he dove down on the Governor realizing it was, "Cannon fire!"  
  
A section of the fort exploded in a sudden combustion of fire and some pieces of rocks flew into the air and showered back down. The commodore was on his feet again seconds later and barking commands- they were under attack. "Return fire!"  
  
Jack listened from inside the jail to the faint low booms of the cannons down in the bay. "I know those guns," he told himself as he recognized the unique (to him, anyway) sound of the cannon fire below. He sprung up, ran to his only window and looked through the bars down at the large black galleon as the jail gave another rattle. "It's the _Pearl_."  
  
"_Black Pearl_?" the nervous prisoner from earlier asked in a shaky voice. He bolted over to peer at Jack and gulped as he gripped the bars of his cell. "I've heard stories. She's been preying on ships and settlements for near ten years. Never leaves any survivors."  
  
"No survivors?" Jack asked with a grin. He turned back to the prisoner, who now had his friends gathered round him. "Then where do the stories come from, I wonder?"

* * *

People were running in mad chaos. Explosions were going off left and right throwing people into the air and springing up fires in countless places. The buildings were blown to bits unexpectedly and things where toppled over. One such incident occurred when a cannon build fired and hit a large wooden tower used to help reach the higher places of a building they're building. The tower began to fall and a young blond baby boy was barely scooped up and swept out of harm's way before the tower crashed down where he stood, tearfully weeping for his mother. Then, matters became worse as the devils came ashore.  
  
They came in longboats in large groups, running through out town and doing whatever they pleased. They burned buildings, stole all precious items that caught their greedy eyes, broke and destroyed things of lesser value, killed innocent people and chased others just for the pleasure of hearing them scream- especially the women.  
  
Will had been preparing for this day ever since he came to Port Royal. Innocent lives would not be lost because of pirates attacking and he not being able to do anything them. He grabbed a hatchet and a sword then ran out with that alone into the street. The moment he stepped out his door a woman ran past him screaming as a pirate chased her, laughing with glee. Will raised his hatchet and cast his hatchet after the scallywag and leveled him with a hit right behind the shoulder blades. That was one. Will ran out into the street plucking the hatchet. From the dead pirate's back as he went and switching his sword to his right hand.  
  
Another pirate came charging at him as a dwelling blew up to his left. The pirate swung down at him with his axe, but Will blocked it with his sword and hatchet in a cross form, then stabbed him with his sword and slammed him with his hatchet through the stomach at the same time. That was two. He was going to show no mercy.  
  
Commodore Norrington was bellowing commands at his men atop the fort as they fired cannons back at the black ship. Governor Swann wandered about behind the soldiers, pale and a bit frightened at the idea that he had no idea how to deal with the situation- he was never taught to fight.  
  
Norrington turned to the Governor suddenly. "Governor, barricade yourself in my office."  
The governor stood there staring back at him, unwilling to leave from the fear that he felt. Wasn't he safe up here? "That's an order!" Norrington snarled.

* * *

The loud explosions and din of the mass confusion reached Elizabeth in her bedroom and sent her running to her window to see what was going on. She looked out and saw her little town of Port Royal being blown to pieces as Fort Charles fired back on the large gloomy vessel below. That's when she saw them.  
  
A small mob of pirates made their way to the gate of her mansion home and forced it open. They were planning to come in! She pulled inside and ran toward the foyer to warn the butler.  
  
She ran until she got to the stair landing from which she could see the door and the door could be seen by her. A knock thudded on the door's cold wood and the butler walked calmly to open the door.  
  
"Don't-" but he opened it before she could tell him otherwise.  
  
"Hello, chum!" In a sudden blast from the leading pirate's pistol, the poor butler crumpled to the floor in a heap as Elizabeth let out a squeal of fright.   
  
The lead pirate, called Pintel, was a squat man with shoulder-length tangled greasy dark blond hair, a rugged patch or whiskers on his face and he was balding at the top of his ruddy head. His teeth were filthy, yellow and light brown, and he wore a brown coat that was so soiled it appeared to be dark grey. His loose white shirt (now tinted yellow-brown) was left open, exposing a fat belly. He wore brown pants and boots, had a belt strapped across his chest to hold the sheath to his cutlass and in his belt he kept his pistol tucked.  
  
His closest friend (or "mate," as pirates would say), was Ragetti. Ragetti was taller and thinner in stature. He had sandy blonde hair that was in a remarkably tidy and well-done bull cut.  
He wore the same thing as Pintel, only with a ruby-red loose shirt that was open at the chest, had an earring in his right ear and didn't have the chest-strap. There was also a very unique thing about Ragetti that made him very distinguishable from the rest of the group: his right eye was made of wood and it squeaked when it moved.  
  
As soon as Pintel stepped through the door the other ten or so pirates came streaming in too, and before she knew it, they were running all over the mansion's main level, taking all they pleased, and Elizabeth couldn't do a thing about it. Pintel and Ragetti walked into the foyer as their cronies scattered everywhere. They looked up the stairs to see who had squealed when they fired their gun.  
  
"Up there!" Ragetti blared and he pointed her out, just in case his friend didn't see her.   
  
Elizabeth went cold. They'd seen her. A chill ran up her spine and she took off, quivering in fear.  
  
"Girl!" Pintel called after her and she took off faster up the stairs. As she got to the hallway, she could hear their voices and heavy footsteps pounding up the stairway behind her- they were following her!  
  
She charged into her room and slammed the door shut and locked it tight. The pirates began to ram against it, attempting to knock it down. She ran to her room and ran into someone. She squealed at the sudden surprise and fear of it. As she turn to run in the other direction, she froze when she realized the person she ran into shrieked as well and grabbed Elizabeth. It was Estella, Elizabeth's maid.  
  
"Miss Swann, they've come to kidnap you!" she hissed in a harsh whisper, beside herself with fear.  
  
"What?!"  
  
"You're the Governor's daughter."  
  
She could be right. She had heard of stories of pirates kidnaping the daughters of governors and other rich and powerful men in hopes of receiving a ransom or just to have a woman around for a change. She needed to hide. To hide, or she needed to keep them busy until the commodore could come or send some soldiers and save her.  
  
"Estella," Elizabeth instructed, quite out of breath, "they haven't seen you. Hide and the first  
chance you get, run to the fort."  
  
Estella nodded and ran to hide as her lady had instructed. Elizabeth ran toward her bedroom just as the pirates threw all their weight onto the door and it came crashing down.  
  
They scanned the room and Ragetti caught a glimpse of the hem of Elizabeth's dressing gown as she ran through the door. He smiled to Pintel and the two made their way toward the door, with stupid grins on their faces and Pintel in the lead. Honestly, it was always so fun when the ladies ran our put up a fight- made things more interesting.  
  
As Pintel stepped through the door, some thing came flying through the door way, at his face and, with a metal pang, cracked him hard on the nose. Whatever it was, it was also very hot and briefly burnt him. Being complete unexpected, Pintel fell to the floor, crossed-eyed.  
  
Elizabeth prepared to strike Ragetti now, who was right behind Pintel. The last bloke was easy to get rid of and this one looked even more stupid. She swung her bedpan for his face. However, Ragetti wasn't exactly _that_ stupid and foresaw the blow. He grabbed Elizabeth's arms and stopped her from landing her hit.  
  
"Gotcha!" He pinned her arms down to her sides and barked and laughed at her as she squirmed and tried to wriggle away from him. She twisted this way and that and nothing was working. She had to get away. She couldn't let them take her. She pulled to her right once again in a frantic attempt to escape and, as she did, her finger fell upon the smooth metal ring that opened the bedpan.  
  
She leaned the pan over Ragetti, stuck her forefinger into the ring and pulled it like the trigger of a gun. A shower of red coals, glowing hot, rained down on Ragetti.  
  
He gave a surprisingly girlish squeal and furiously began brushing the coals off. "It's hot! It's on me!"  
  
At that moment, Pintel rose from his heavy sleep and sat up to see Elizabeth making for the staircase at a run. "Come on!"  
  
Elizabeth was in a panic unlike any other she'd felt before. These foul men really wanted her and her specifically, otherwise they wouldn't be so willing to deal with all that trouble she was giving them. Estella was probably right about them wanting to kidnap her. She flew down the stairs, her lungs pulsating and burning in her chest. Her legs were throbbing and aching mercilessly and she wished she could just stop, but she reached the final landing and could see the foyer from where she was. She was almost there, just one last set of stairs.  
  
She was halfway down, and then three quarters of the way down Ragetti dropped from above and landed in front of her, having vaulted over the banister above. He smiled maliciously in the light of the torch he held in his left hand. She went stiff, then spun around, in hopes of being able to run back up the stairs and find a room up there to hide. To her horror, Pintel was already coming down the stairs, eyes hungry and red with anger. Her eyes darted around the room, searching for an escape or object to hit with. She was trapped!  
  
Another pirate trotted into the room, his arms full of gold and jewelry and a smile upon his face from the glee of having found where the family kept much of their riches. A deep boom sounded and a cannonball tore up the wall, ripped through some columns in its path and hit the pirate smack-dab in the stomach sending him flying through the air, backward till he hit some closed doors and opened them with the force of his body slamming into it.  
  
A crack broke through the galvanized air and Elizabeth, Pintel and Ragetti looked up and saw the chandelier beginning to fall. Her stomach lurched with surprise and she reacted in the first way that seized her mind- by running. Pushing Ragetti out of the way, she took hold of the moment she ran across the foyer. She could feel the rush of the air as the chandelier fell to the floor just barely missing crushing her delicate body. She ran into the dining room and slammed the double doors shut behind her. Then, grabbing a candle holder that had a long stem and branched to the left, up and right into three places for the candles, she jammed the holder over the handles of the door.   
  
She desperately needed to hurry. The door lurched forward threateningly but the candle holder held them fast as the pirates rammed against the door. She looked around the room. There was no other way out and by now the pirates were not going to tolerate any more. She need a weapon. She searched the room with her eyes as the doors gave another terrifying rattle. There was the table, but it was too big to carry. The fire place, windows, the rug, the table cloth, some swords, the cupboard, and- swords?! Surely enough, hung on the wall above the mantlepiece of the fireplace were two rapier-like swords crossed and set in a mortar mount for decoration. But the swords were real, and she could use them. She ran and grabbed the handle of one, hoping to have it slide so she could fight the pirates, but as she pulled the whole mount came down instead and shake as she liked, the sword would not come free, but remained stuck as a display piece.  
  
She looked up as the doors wined in another ram.   
  
Pintel and Ragetti were almost through the doors, they could feel it. The threw one last shoulder-butt into the doors and they finally gave, admitting the foul-smelling brigands into the room. The looked about the room. It appeared completely empty except for the furniture and regular items to found in a diningroom. It was absolutely soundless, all except for the silent blazing of the torch Ragetti held in his hand. The curtains of an open window flowed softly in the gentle breeze flowing in from outside, and this too made a sound.  
  
Pintel scowled. The girl probably opened the window in an attempt to trick them into thinking she had climbed out the window. Ha! He knew better than that. No woman would climb out a window, especially in her nightgown. He and Ragetti began to look around the room for possible hiding places.  
  
"We know you're here, Poppet," Pintel cooed in his husky voice.  
  
"Poppet," Ragetti echoed with a low, stupid giggle.  
  
"Come out and we promise we won't hurt you."  
  
"Eh?" Ragetti asked a bit bewildered. Then he caught after Pintel gave him the look and showed he understood by pointing to his nose. Pintel resisted rolling his eyes.  
  
"We will find you, Poppet. You've got something of ours and it calls to us," Pintel went on as he looked around for a clue to where the woman had run. And a clue he found when he noticed that a corner of the floor rug was overturned. Looking up, he saw that a cabinet made to blend into the wall stood before it. He grinned. "The gold calls to us."  
  
Elizabeth held her breath and let it go repeatedly in silence attempting to steal her breathing. She didn't have anything that belonged to them. What were they talking about? Unless.... She took the medallion in her hands. Unless the medallion was the gold. She looked at it hard. This couldn't be what they were after, could it? And yet ... and yet when she found it she did assume Will to be a pirate. Could it really be a pirates' medallion? It did have the skull. Light shining through the door (which was open a crack) glinted on the coins surface as she studied it, then a shadow was cast over it. Elizabeth looked up to see what was blocking the light.  
  
Pintel's eye was peering through the crack. He grinned wickedly. " 'ello, poppet."  
  
The door sprung open and Elizabeth felt a cold rush of fear and a gasp leave her lips as Pintel cocked his pistol and pointed it at her head and she went stiff as a board.  
  
"Parlay!" she barked. She said it so fast and so unexpectedly that Pintel was unsure he heard her correctly. On top of that it was most very uncommon for non-pirates to know rule of parlay.  
  
At first the pirate looked like he thought he hadn't heard her correctly. "What?"  
  
"Parlay. I invoke the right of parlay," she repeated in a shaky voice. "According to the code of the brethren, set down by the pirates Morgan and Bartholomew, you have to take me to your Captain."   
  
"I know the code!" he growled ferociously. He, however, found it hard to believe that this girl knew the code.  
  
Well, Elizabeth couldn't help but notice that the gun was not lowered. This disturbed her (and I'm sure it would have disturbed you had you had a cocked pistol pointing at you) so she felt it necessary to remind the pirates of their rules once again. "If an adversary demands parlay you can do them no harm until the parlay is complete."  
  
"Apparently, so does she!"  
  
"To blazes with the code!" Ragetti snarled and rose his gun.  
  
"She wants to be taken to the Captain!" Pintel roared surprisingly loud at his friend, who jumped and bowed his head as a reaction. Pintel turned back to Elizabeth and smirked. "And she'll go without a fuss.... We must honor the code."

* * *

Will was locked in a hot battle with a pirate who was bald except for the bangs at the front of his head, had an earring in his right ear and used a grapple as a weapon- hence his name, Grapple.  
  
Will dodged a swing from the grapple swing from the grapple and swung at him with his sword, which was blocked. He was disarmed and then hooked around the neck with the grapple before he could process what was happening. He was drawn up close to Grapple, who pulled on the hook forcing Will's head to tip back and his neck to be fully exposed. Grapple grinned toothily and raised his axe near Will's throat.  
  
"Say goodbye!" he jeered with glee.  
  
His breath smelt horrible, but that wasn't something Will was concerned about at the moment. He tensed, almost feeling the axe digging into his skin, searing with pain and warm blood running down his neck and shoulders. He didn't want to die like that, not yet. His anger immediately dissipated and was replaced with terror.  
  
Low boom sounded from the harbor and a cannonball came flying through the air. It collided with the building Will and Grapple were standing in front of. It hit the base of a chain that held up a heavy wooden sign reading what the shop they stood before was. The chain broke and the sign began to drop and swing down like a giant hammer toward Will and Grapple. It was at this moment that Will's wits returned and he ducked, feeling the rush of the wind the sign gave off as it passed him overhead. Stumbling backwards, he looked up just in time to see it sweep Grapple into the window- killing him in a shower of glass.  
  
"Goodbye!" Will answered the pirate's command. It was a bit disturbing to know that he could also have been caught in that unexpected death. He took his hatchet, picked up his sword and began to walk down the street seeking another opponent, when his eyes fell upon a group of pirates, tugging a prisoner along at a very fast pace. This was curious sight and he looked closer to see who it was.  
  
"Come on!" one growled and he pulled on the roped tied around the young woman's wrists to get her to run faster. She looked up and met eyes with him.  
  
"Will," she muttered. Perhaps he could get her out of this mess?  
  
Will felt his stomach give an uncomfortable lurch as he realized who their prisoner was. "Elizabeth," he felt softly leave his lips. For it was her. They were taking her away. Anger boiled inside of him. They, that whole bloody group was his next target and they would pay dearly. All of them would die. He stepped to go after.  
  
A pirate stood in his path and he became more infuriated at the thought that someone dared interfere with his rescue. He looked at the pirate with wrath burning in his eyes and then became very confused. He was... he looked _exactly _like the first pirate he killed. He had a beard of dread locks that smoked at the ends and his filthy face was no doubt the same. The pirate, Jacoby was his name, giggled and waved his hand to the young blacksmith and Will suddenly became aware of a faint hissing. He looked down to see the fuse of the hand grenade placed at his feet burn and disappear into the bomb.  
  
There was a still moment in which Will waited for it to explode. To excruciating heat course over him in pain and agony ... but it never did. Nothing happened. It was a dud. Will looked up at Jacoby with the same fire burning in his eyes and heart that was burning only moments before. Jacoby shrank back and prepared to run as Will raised his hatchet with a smirk.  
  
"Outta my way, scum!" someone roared behind him.  
  
He felt a sharp pain on his skull and then everything was black. He, Elizabeth's only witness and only hope of rescue, was struck on the head and knocked out as he fell to the floor, helpless and out cold. 


End file.
